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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29640576">Some Sunsick Day</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marauders - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Alternate Universe - Music Store, Angst, Anxiety, Background Jily, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Remus Lupin, Canon Gay Relationship, Communication issues galore, Dark Past, Depression, Emotional Slowburn, Established Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Male Character, Gay Panic, Gay Sirius Black, James Potter - Freeform, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, M/M, Minor Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Nightmares, POV Sirius Black, PTSD, Past Abuse, Piercings, Remus Lupin Lives, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Scars, Semi-slowburn, Sirius Black Lives, Sirius is an idiot, Tattoos, The Marauders - Freeform, can someone just be nice to remus for once, childhood trauma comes up, dorlene asf, euphemia and fleamont potter are angels sent from heaven, fenrir greyback is a little bitch, gid and fab cause problems, he has a welsh accent officially in this, james and sirius are best buddies, jily is endgame, lily evans is a badass cutie, read all his lines in a welsh accent, remus is a coy little cheek, remus is finally welsh, remus is hella cagey 24/7, remus lupin is an awkward little git, shit can get sad, sirius drinks way too much coffee, sirius gets in his feels, sirius is an arrogant tosser, sirius is frustratingly beautiful, slowburn, stuff gets sad oh ouch, the prewett twins fuck shit up, too much angst for their own good, walburga black is a nutter, why does nobody make remus welsh, wolfstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:14:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>94,267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29640576</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d been all tall stature, long limbs, and Welsh lilt, with honeyed curls and amber eyes, face perfectly coated with a smattered colony of freckles and a myriad of scars that disappeared below his collar and snaked out of all the free places of the B&amp;B blouse he wore. Sirius hated it, and hated him.</p><p>OR</p><p>Sirius is an artist, Remus is a barista, and the two of them have the fattest load of communication issues ever known to man. And James Potter and Lily Evans are the highlight of everything.<br/>(complete)<br/>*rated explicit due to implied sex and graphic depictions of alcohol and legal drug use, heavy swearing*<br/>-MI was the first modern au fic i ever read so there are some similar ideas - sirius’s nightmares i got from another fic. i don’t recommend MI to my (young) audience as it’s sexually explicit and god knows ao3 doesn’t have good enough age restrictions. some scenes are similar like the kissing in the club :) -<br/>-for anyone wondering a lot of my prose inspo comes from rossetti, caitlin siehl, montparnasse .-<br/>-THIS HAS A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!-</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>872</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1011</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Beats & Beans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>- VERY heavy swearing<br/>- this is a MATURE fic, although not outright explicit, i would still caution you, mature readers ONLY<br/>-kinda slowburn<br/>- don't ship it, don't read it<br/>- if the CWs seem a little excessive im just making sure everyone feels comfy :)<br/>-there's a lot of dark shit to do w mental health, ptsd, substance abuse, homophobia, domestic abuse. please tread lightly</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>well hello you silly, foolish little reader. plsplspls keep in mind this fic deals with adult themes and mental health so BE CAREFUL!!!<br/>its an au, but i do write original universe/canon universe stuff too, i have a long haul encompassing the whole marauders life coming out *this summer* and also a nice, actually happy (bittersweet? occasionally angsty?) long shot that u can find here:<a>RIGHT HERE BFF</a> to<br/>Cw: remu's scars are mentioned<br/>- jerk it out by the ceasars</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Wind me up,<br/>
Put me down,<br/>
Start me off and watch me go.<br/>
I'll be running circles around you sooner than you know. </em>
</p><p>Sirius Black adored coffee. He flourished in the bitterness, the cadencing burn of the hot grind that he sipped at least five times a day. He revelled in the caffeine shakes, the buzz and high alert, the way the espresso machine in his flat whirred and he could literally <em> feel </em> the excitement bubbling up inside his stomach.</p><p>The one thing Sirius Black loved more than coffee though, was a coffee shop. He, to put it simply, adored them. He was infatuated with their bejewelled hubbub, all warm buzz and dim lights, the sound of laughing and music and moving and people, of milk frothers and coffee machines and beans being ground. The only other place he felt so at home at was his own work, right across the street from his favourite brew stop: Beats and Beans. Sirius was attached at the hip to the place, and he’d spend his breaks there, nestled in the corner with a cup of black liquid, watching as music customers filtered to one side and coffee-drinkers to the other, simultaneously entranced yet also bewildered by the way the two crowds seamlessly blended together, taught and tense yet flowing and free, like the Piscean fish. Beans and Beats, or B&amp;B, as the locals knew it, was Sirius’s favourite place on earth.</p><p>That was, until they employed that man.</p><p>He’d been all tall stature, long limbs, and Welsh lilt, with honeyed curls and amber eyes, face perfectly coated with a smattered colony of freckles and a myriad of scars that disappeared below his collar and snaked out of all the free places of the B&amp;B blouse he wore. Sirius hated it, and hated him. He couldn’t sit down and enjoy his drink while he could literally sense the back of his neck clambering up like a broken thermometer and his caffeine pumped heart quivering beyond the register of a sugared cappuccino. It was not only difficult to focus, but it was  quintessentially embarrassing when Sirius would stroll in, still covered in paint and black hair twisted into a knot, to see the tall one look up with his tawny eyes and ask Sirius what he wanted in that frustratingly endearing Gaelic exact, that Welsh touch, that made Sirius feel weak at the knees..</p><p>
  <em> I want my peace and quiet back. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sirius clocked into work on Saturday morning at seven, still rubbing prickly sleep from his eyes and stifling a yawn, gripping a coffee in hand. He opened up the store, grinning at the rattle of keys on the metal handle, and breathing in a large gasp of paint-filled air. </p><p>Sirius had worked at Full Moon for bordering on three years, and he loved every minute of it. He was not only in his element, but he <em> was </em> his element, feeling comfortably at home among the shelves of art supplies. The tubs of paint seemed to grin at him, the marker displays and paintbrush stands whistling along with them.</p><p>He put his coffee on the front till and moved towards the back, unlocking the studio door with a fell swoop that sent a breeze skittering across the carpeted floor. He smiled to himself, happy at once to be back in the art room, despite having only left in the twilight hours last night.</p><p>Possibly the only place he loved more than Beats and Beans was his studio at the back of Full Moon. The floors were an earthy, matte wood, the walls plastered from top to bottom in posters and art pieces in every variety, all crafted and displayed by his own tender hands. A few workbenches dotted the room: sometimes Sirius held art classes in here, to get himself a bit more revenue, but every desk was weathered and splintered with the years of passion and the flurry of creation.</p><p><br/>He tossed his leather jacket onto the nearby hook with a graceful carelessness cultivated over many years of splendid arrogance, wrestling off his helmet and placing it on the windowsill, where the early morning sunlight glinted off the visor and danced along the surfaces of the studio. Feeling content, Sirius moved back into the main floor of the shop, checking nothing was disturbed, and settling down at the till to deal with opening chores. He stretched like a cat, gulping the rest of his coffee down. He’d be alone today: he pretty much always was at work. Full Moon was a small chain, with another store further out of London and a few in some shabby Northern market towns, so they didn’t really employ many people, preferring to keep their profit up instead. Sirius supposed that was the nature of business. Sirius’s friend Marlene did a few odd shifts when things were stretched, cash in hand, but in a way it was his shop and his alone. Leaning forward to flip the sign from closed to open, he peered out the window as he settled back onto the cashier’s stool, still tightly popping the grinds and gristles of a cramped night’s sleep.</p><p>Sirius stared out of the foggy window, watching the London street slowly come to life, as shops began to creakily open their doors and dump wooden signs outside. Directly across from him was B&amp;B, where he’d most likely find himself on his lunch break. The shop was shuddering to, green shutters rising and swinging. Then, Sirius saw him, a hiss of annoyance escaping through his teeth like a burst tire. The stupid tall one was there.</p><p> </p><p>“Flat white, please,” Sirius mumbled, staring at the cracked acrylic on his weathered artist’s fingers, picking at the black polish on his nails.</p><p>“Sure,” the tall one replied casually, marking a cup. “Can I get a name?”</p><p><em> I’m a bloody regular, </em> Sirius bit back, but instead of relenting to the angry voice inside he shook himself off and looked back up.</p><p>“Sirius,” he replied curtly, deftly raising his black eyebrow, almost daring the intruder to snap back. But of course, in the way that men who looked that good did, he just smiled.</p><p>“Sure.” He repeated. “Any milk modifications?”</p><p>“Yeah. Oat.” Sirius glanced at the header board behind his head, pretending that his eyes hadn’t traced the chalk-penned lettering a million times before.</p><p>Just as the tall man had moved to make Sirius’s drink, a booming voice sounded from behind the bar.</p><p>“Sirius motherfucking Black!” Kingsley Shacklebolt yelled, striding from the back room to clap his friend on the back. Sirius grinned, flashing his devilish pearly whites, and bumped Kingsley’s knuckles.</p><p>“Orright Kay?” he quipped, nudging the man with an elbow. Kingsley smirked back, deftly grabbing Sirius’s hands and holding them up to the light.</p><p>“See this, greenie?” he asked the tall one, who gave a polite smile and a small shake of the head. “Tracking bloody paint into our shop! Do you even wash, Black?”</p><p>Sirius poked his tongue out at Kingsley, snatching his hands back, dusting them off on the side of his jeans. He shrugged nonchalantly, lips quirking in a snicker again.</p><p>“I’m a working man, Kay. What can I say? Come straight for break.”</p><p>“There’s my boy,” Kingsley laughed, already retreating towards the black room. “Hey, join us for a pint at the Three Broomsticks tonight, mate?”</p><p>Sirius pretended to squint and think, face scrunched up in mock consideration.</p><p>“I suppose I could fit you in,” he laughed, taking the now steaming cup from the very-handsome-but-also-very-intruding-and-inconvenient-and-tall-and-amber-eyed-and-<br/>
focus, damnit-barista.</p><p>“Marvellous,” Kingsley beamed his wide, bright smile. “Greenie’s first trip out.”</p><p>Sirius felt his jaw harden slightly, and his knuckles tensed around his cup, stupidly. The plastic top popped open and hot liquid bubbled out of the top, sloshing onto Sirius’s hand. Kingsley just burst into peals of laughter while Sirius flipped him the bird, and the amber-eyed man behind the counter passed Sirius a cloth while wiping up the mess on the counter, mumbling apologies as if it was his fault.</p><p><em> Of course, </em> Sirius thought with a bitter annoyance. <em> Of course he’s bloody polite. </em></p><p>“Not your fault mate,” Sirius shrugged, passing the now brown rag back. “My fault.”</p><p>The man hummed, tawny eyes flitting down to the cloth and back up to Sirius. The corner of his mouth quirked a little bit, eyes almost deceptively shining with amusement. Then, in the blink of an eye he was gone, back to the till and leaning over to serve another customer.</p><p>“You’re a dickhead,” Kingsley mouthed, ringed fingers giving Sirius a thumbs up, who just rolled his eyes and stuck a V at his friend.</p><p> </p><p>It was nearing closing time, sky starting to turn a faint orange shade. Sirius checked the clock: it read 5:45, meaning 15 minutes till closing. Sirius didn’t usually count down till he could leave, usually opting to stay burrowed in his studio for hours after the door had been locked and the sign flipped. But that stupid, tall barista had really thrown him off.</p><p><em> Why on earth does he have to even come tonight? </em> Sirius wondered with a petulant huff, folding his tattooed arms across his chest. <em> First he takes away my peace and quiet at B&amp;B, and now he ruins my Saturday night? I’ll bet he doesn’t even like music, or coffee. </em></p><p>Sirius shuddered at the thought. How could someone not like coffee?</p><p>He looked out of the window idly, kicking his legs and doodling absentmindedly on the paper in front of him, not really bothering to see what his pen was tracing, just enjoying the smooth movements of ink on parchment.</p><p>There he was again, locking up the shop, hunched over the outside of the door like a pickpocket, wrestling a huge group of keys hung from a single titanium ring. Sirius smirked, enjoying watching him struggle, finding himself swiftly disappointed as the man straightened up, stuffing the keys into his pocket. He was wearing a cable-knit, that sported holes near the collar, and was composed of entirely dark green wool, which Sirius found himself grimacing at. He wore a huge corduroy jacket over it, at least two sizes too big, and it drowned out his slender, elongated frame. The man reached into his pocket and unearthed a tin of what looked like cigarettes, pre-rolled, deftly plucking one and lighting it, carved cheeks hollowing out as he pulled on the bundle of tobacco.</p><p><em> Oh, really now? </em> Sirius wondered glumly. <em> He smokes bloody pre-rolls? Of course he does. Look at him. </em></p><p>The man turned, and Sirius quickly ducked back to his desk, pretending he hadn’t just been staring, slightly slack-jawed at the stupid, slender man. Sirius was the stupid one though, forgetting the entire front of the shop was all glass windows, and he could feel the honey-coloured eyes staring at him. Tentatively, Sirius moved his head, to see him still stood outside the coffee shop, watching Sirius with a curious look on his face, still sucking on the cigarette perched between two of his long fingers.</p><p>So Sirius did what Sirius does, and flipped him the bird, to which the other man blinked, and then - was he? - he <em> smiled </em>, amusement crossing his pronounced features. And he was gone.</p><p><em> Bloody hell, Sirius, </em> he thought to himself. <em> Clunkier than cubism. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Flatmates</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW - heavy swearing, nightmares, mention of running away from home and allusion to phsycial violence<br/>dream a little dream of me by the mamas and papas</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you,<br/>Sweet dreams that leave all your worries behind you,<br/>But in your dreams whatever they be,<br/>Dream a little dream of me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Two weeks earlier… </em>
</p><p>Sirius took the cold steps up to his flat two at a time, pushing the already unlocked door aside and bounding into his shared apartment, both furious and starving.<br/>
The entryway was dimly lit, lined with coats and jackets from Sirius and his flatmates, battered brass hooks hanging off the wall and casting shadows onto the worn table that stood next to the door. Sirius dumped his bike and shop keys down in the stupid ceramic key dish Lily had insisted they buy, and stared loathsomely at the neat pile of mail that gathered.</p><p>“Honey, I’m ho-o-o-me,” Sirius called loudly, swinging around the wall and gripping the paintwork as he catapulted himself into the living room. Lily and James were nowhere to be seen, but he could hear their voices, and decided the kitchen was the best bet.</p><p>“I said I’m home!” he yelled again, swiftly cut off by a weathered oven mitt smacking him in the face. His two roommates, Lily and James Potter, were perched in the small kitchen: James leaning on the counter top with a mug of English tea, and Lily deftly sat on the small wooden table, sipping what looked to be some peppermint blend shit. Sirius grimaced, and went to throw the oven glove back.</p><p>“Ah ah!” James warned, indicating to his tea, smiling as Sirius conceded and flopped the glove onto the table next to the redhead.</p><p>Sirius loved their little kitchen: it was tiny, sure, and a little bit rough around the edges and a bit pokey in others. But it was their little haven. The cabinets were painted a pale, almost sage green: him and James had slaved over them for many a messy hour while Lily worked, determined to surprise the girl with her favourite colour. There were plants everywhere, courtesy of the redhead; a coffee station, courtesy of Sirius; and an undeniably impressive fridge magnet collection, courtesy of James.</p><p>Lily and James were his best friends in the whole world: he’d known them since he was a kid, pulling stupid schoolboy pranks and earning the chastisement of the very-pretty-ginger-prefect-who-James-definitely-did-not-fancy. Lily and James got married last year, and the three of them were coming up to a decade of friendship, and Sirius was convinced they were his soulmates. </p><p>The Potters were Sirius’s real family, and he could still remember the day they’d taken him in, ushering the battered and exhausted black haired boy into their living room, voices hushed all night. He’d lived with them since he was 16 - they were like a rock out in the ocean he’d flung himself at and clung blindly to as the dark waters churned and tugged below. Euphemia and Fleamont Potter were, quite literally, his guardian angels.</p><p>“We put you a pot on,” Lily commented, gesturing towards a metal cafetiere that steamed from the small opening at the top and offered up the intoxicating scent of freshly brewed coffee. Sirius kissed Lily’s cheek in adoration (“Marry me, Lily?”), and began to pour, rich black liquid trickling into his favourite mug.</p><p>“Mmmm,” he crooned, holding it close to his face, sipping the scalding water. “Yummy.”</p><p>“The Chinese arrived before you did,” James commented wryly, holding up a takeaway bag that glittered with the red lettering of the local takeaway.</p><p>“Fab,” Sirius grinned, snatching the carrier and making his way to the living room, where he flopped onto the sofa, listening to the rustles of James and Lily setting out the dinner. He was glad they’d got his messages about ordering in: it was his night to cook, and he was too frazzled to even think about safely wielding a spatula.</p><p>The evening sun settled over their living room, basking the cluttered space with a faint, honey-coloured glow.</p><p>
  <em> Honey coloured, damnit. </em>
</p><p>“So,” James nudged, hand already around a spring roll. “What’s the emergency?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Sirius murmured, eyes closed.</p><p>“You text us to say there was an emergency. What is it?”</p><p>“Oh,” Sirius gasped in remembrance, sitting up and seizing a pair of chopsticks. “It’s a tragedy.”</p><p>“Okay,” James prompted, and Lily snorted, rolling up a duck pancake, sucking the soy-sauce off her painted fingernails.</p><p>“You know the B&amp;B?” Sirius asked, settling into the chow mein he’d ordered. “They hired a new recruit.”</p><p>James sighed, pushing his glasses onto his head and rubbing a hand over his face: his usual exasperated-with-Sirius-face.</p><p>Sirius blinked, still munching, the crunch of veg delicious under his teeth.</p><p>“Well?” Lily responded, flicking a cucumber slice at him. “Out with it.”</p><p>Sirius groaned, settling back into the soft plush of their grey sofa, tucking his feet underneath himself. He sighed in acted melodrama, flinging a tattooed arm across his eyes and faking fairness.</p><p>“He’s like, super beautiful.”</p><p>The room was silent for a moment, and then Lily and James shared a knowing look, promptly erupting into laughter.</p><p>Sirius rolled his eyes and flipped them both off, turning back to his chow mein that sat longingly in a little cardboard tub. He pushed it around with his chopsticks until the other two had finally quietened their giggles, still snickering under their breath through jawfuls of Chinese.</p><p>“And why, might we ask, Padfoot,” James leaned back, grin still plastered on his face, tugging his glasses back down to eye level, “is that a problem?”</p><p>“You’d have to see him to realise,” Sirius shot back, wicked glint in his eye that suggested he’d already seen the new recruit many times. “He’s insanely fit. Possibly on the same scale as me.”</p><p>Lily rolled her eyes.</p><p>“I still don’t see why this is an emergency, Pads,” she sighed, rolling another pancake and delicately munching on a bite of it. “So a fit guy works across from you. Sounds like a win.”</p><p>“No,” Sirius retorted, slapping his empty chow mein pot onto the coffee table. “It’s very much <em> not </em> a win, Lils.”</p><p>“Elaborate,” James waved.</p><p>“You don’t shit where you eat, do you? I can’t be seeing that literal human Adonis every time I go for my tri-daily coffee can I?”</p><p>“Maybe you should get less coffee,” James muttered, clenching his mouth shut when Sirius cast him a filthy glare. </p><p>“Don’t be bloody stupid, Prongs.” Sirius burrowed further into the sofa, determined to squirrel away from his questioning friends with ridiculous, caffeine-less solutions and the tawny-eyed barista who handed him at least three drinks a day. <em> Did the man ever have a day off? </em></p><p>“So don’t get off with him,” Lily said pragmatically, hands spread. “Easy.”</p><p>“Not easy,” Sirius bubbled, snatching a spring roll off James's plate. “Very much not easy, at all. But if I do get with him, then I have to see one of my…”</p><p>Sirius paused, choosing his words carefully.</p><p>“Dalliances?”</p><p>“Hook-ups?”</p><p>“... involvements every day,” Sirius finished carefully, chucking filthy looks at his friend’s crassness. “So basically, I either have to find another coffee shop as woefully majestic as B&amp;B, or I have to resist his charms.”</p><p>“Who’s to say he even fancies blokes, Sirius?” James proposed fairly, which earned another spring roll off his plate.</p><p>Sirius shrugged. “You might be right. Thank you for no help, you two.”</p><p>Lily laughed, a warm, tinkling sound, lounging back and sipping her tea still, having dusted off the pancakes in a matter of minutes.</p><p>Just to spite him, Sirius took his third helping of James’s spring rolls, which earned a noise of indignation and a swinging hand determined to retrieve his property back from his best friend.</p><p>Sirius stealthily dodged, cramming the spring roll in between his lips, chowing down and mouthing “Fuck you” at the bespectacled man in front of him, who roared in mock fury and leaped for Sirius, crashing on top of him with a heaved breath. Then the two were wrestling and Lily was watching, eyebrow raised, as the two rolled on the sofa: (“My spring rolls you prick,” “Should’ve ordered more Prongy,” “I’ll fish them out of your bowel,”) until they collapsed into a giggling heap, James’s glasses askew and Sirius’s glossy hair mussed and cowlicked.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius shucked off his paint spattered clothes, stepping into the shower of their small bathroom, letting the warm water run and cascade around him. His hair was slick against his head, clear droplets dripping onto his long eyelashes. He sighed, scrubbing his face and grabbing a shower lily (“Lily! You two have the same name! I’m buying it.”), determined to remove the paint stains that tracked up his already decorated arms. He sighed against the aquatic flow, eyes closed, feeling the water run tracks down his cheeks. </p><p><em> I wonder what his name is, </em> Sirius pondered, and quickly chastised himself for thinking about the barista. <em> I hope it’s something hideous, or really dull. It’ll be easier to dislike him. </em></p><p> God, why don’t they do nametags at the B&amp;B? </p><p>Shaking his thoughts off, he continued to shower, humming contentedly as he massaged shampoo suds into his thick, black hair. He turned the shower off, silver knob creaking, and towelled down, redressing in only his boxers. He crawled into bed and lay under the covers, staring at the ceiling and thinking, yet again, about the man who worked at B&amp;B. But when sleep eventually claimed him, Sirius wished it was him he would dream about.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A fist in his jaw, a scratch across his face. Blood, stinging, purple bruises blooming like crooked flowers, with thorns that shredded his skin. The walls came in, close, suffocating, and they were yelling, a cacophonic screech that hummed and vibrated all around him and shook his veins, rumbling his core till the ground opened up and swallowed him whole. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Cigarettes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry for the flurry of chapters i'm just trying to get the story established before other work eats me alive!!<br/>-CW remus's scars are mentioned again, you can probably keep that CW in mind for this whole fic, also heavy swearing as usual haha<br/>when the sun goes down by the arctic monkeys</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> And what a scummy man,<br/>
Just give him half a chance,<br/>
I bet he'll rob you if he can,<br/>
Can see it in his eyes, yeah,<br/>
That he's got a driving ban...
... 'Cause he's a scumbag don't you know?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The Three Broomsticks was a Flat 13A’s favourite place, and the trio had soon roped all their friends into loving it too. It was a genial pub, with warm lights dazzled along the walls and oak furniture that spoke to years of business. It was cozy, and for a drunken Sirius, it was home. That was, until Kingsley Shacklebot brought the newest member of the B&amp;B staff to their weekly beer-filled night.</p><p>Sirius loved everyone who worked at the B&amp;B: there was Kingsley, of course, who’d known Sirius for years; Mary, who was a fucking legend on a night out; Dorcas Meadowes, who worked in the music section, and was Marlene’s girlfriend; and Peter, another one of Sirius’s school friends. Lily and Marlene worked at the hospital, as nurses, and James had some bigwig managerial position in his parent’s hair product company. That was Sirius’s group, plus the Prewett twins from the garage across town who made the occasional appearance. Sirius was happy, Sirius was content: those were his friends.</p><p><em> Not </em> some stunningly handsome, unbelievably tall man who, as much as Sirius hated to admit it, made a killer flat white. But here he was, much to the tattooed artist’s dismay. He’d not been there when Sirius had arrived, and Sirius filed lateness into the reasons-to-stay-away-list. But the list quickly evaporated when he walked in, long hands stuffed into the jacket of that same baggy corduroy, sporting burgundy shirt buttoned down one or two buttons too low, revealing a freckled sternum that glinted with the frosty silver of scars. Sirius could feel his breath catch, like a literal rock had tumbled down his windpipe, and he felt his face grow as crimson as the Gryffindor Lions rugby flags that adorned the walls behind them. The barista had looked up, bronze eyes searching for the group, who had nestled themselves into their usual booth.</p><p>The man smiled, a polite, sweet smile, and made his way over, slender body deftly weaving through the crowd, passing by waitresses and pub-goers like a gentle April breeze.</p><p>“Everyone, this is Remus. Remus Lupin,” Kingsley gesticulated, pulling out a stool for Remus <em> right fucking across from where Sirius was </em>.</p><p><em> Of course, </em> Sirius groaned inwardly. <em> Of course he has a fucking cool name. Damnit. </em></p><p>The man named Remus grinned, shaking hands, but Sirius kept his firmly clenched around his pint glass, and Remus’s eyes passed cooly over his, upper teeth nipping his lower lip. Remus had sat down, shrugging off his jacket and laying it down over the chair, and Sirius couldn’t help but notice how gently his hands moved. He was looking at his wrists, which were slimmer than most, bordering on bony, but flashed with a small crescent moon tattoo. Sirius wondered if he had any others.</p><p>“Remus is the newest member of the B&amp;B,” Kingsley continued, seemingly oblivious to Sirius’s discomfort. “Quite a catch, isn’t he?”</p><p>Remus ducked his head in embarrassment as the group brayed and cheered in response.</p><p>“We’re hoping he’ll bring more <em> lady </em> clientele in,” Kingsley grinned.</p><p>James snorted into his beer next to Sirius, and Sirius shot him a venomous glare to see Lily suppressing a smirk as the rest of the group laughed.</p><p>“Or men,” James added wryly, with a cheeky grin, and the table laughed again, Kingsley nodding his head and holding his two huge hands out passively while Sirius kicked James’s thick shin with his doc martens under the table.</p><p>“Or men,” he agreed, nodding his head, allowing the conversation to resume. Sirius sat there darkly, draining the last dregs of the orange liquid in his glass, watching Remus enter a gentle conversation with Mary. She was leaning forward, brown skin glowing in the dim pub light, laughing at something he’d said, black curls bobbing, and Sirius felt a pang of jealousy tug in his stomach.</p><p><em> Get a grip, Sirius, </em> he scolded. <em> Remember, we don’t shit where we eat. </em></p><p>Now Mary had said something funny, and Remus had thrown his angular head back to laugh. His throat was exposed, showing yet another scar, and his Adam's apple bobbed, sharp chin casting a shadow along his neck.</p><p>James nudged Sirius and he realised he was staring. <em> So much for that. </em></p><p>“I’m getting another round,” Sirius barked, standing up, trying desperately to snap himself out of the foggy haze that was all angles and sharp cheekbones and neckline. “Who wants what?”</p><p>Everybody chirped their orders, and Sirius shook his head, snorting. “I can’t fucking remember all that.”</p><p>“I’ll come with you,” Remus stood up too, asking the side of the table he was on what they all wanted. With a sour grimace, Sirius collected the other asks, and had walked over to the bar before Remus had even left the group. <em> Avoid him. He's way too pretty. </em></p><p>Sirius leaned over the bar, running his hands through his hair and flashing a small at the barmaid, who blushed and asked him what he wanted, looking up at him through thick lashes. Not his type, as in, he didn’t really date girls, but he knew he was undeniably gorgeous, and it usually got him free drinks or quicker service. <em> Don’t say beauty means nothing. </em></p><p>“Three pints of the Blonde and a rum and coke darling,” he drawled, and the pretty barmaid smiled demurely, turning around to pull the drinks. Sirius sensed Remus next to him, stood patiently for some attention, and Sirius sighed. <em> What a muppet. Being polite in a bloody English bar. </em></p><p>“What’ve they asked for?” he chirped at Remus, who seemed a bit startled by Sirius’s loud upfrontness.</p><p>“Oh, um, two vodka and cokes and two of the house ciders,” he responded politely, scratching behind his ear.</p><p>
  <em> There’s that tattoo again. </em>
</p><p>Sirius leaned over the bar again, inked forearms spread languidly on the wood, and he winked his dark blue eyes as the barmaid as she brought him his drinks.</p><p>“Silly me, I forgot the others. Could I get two vodka cokes and two house ciders, love?” he grinned, blinking at the girl over the counter. She went pink again, and nodded, flushed, hurrying off to get the other drinks.</p><p>“Impressive,” Remus commented, and the two of them reached for the sitting pints at the same time. Upon feeling his hand touch Remus’s cold one, Sirius jumped and pulled his hand back, almost shivering with electricity.</p><p>
  <em> Keep it together you twat. </em>
</p><p>“Watch it,” Sirius snapped, feeling the back of his neck prickle.</p><p>Remus looked surprised, amber eyes wide, a quick flash of hurt flitting across them, before he took the pints in front of Sirius and turned his back, meandering through the crowd once more.</p><p>
  <em> You bloody idiot, Sirius. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Two more rounds in, Sirius was beginning to get the stuffy, edgy nip in his stomach that told him he needed fresh air and a cigarette.</p><p>He stood, fishing around in his jacket for his pack of straights, and saw Kingsley and Remus stand up too. </p><p>“Are you going for a fag, Black?” Kingsley asked, his packet already in hand, and Sirius nodded mutely. Now he couldn’t even smoke without this Remus man invading his space and making him feel hot and bothered and trapped and really, really excited - <em> give over Sirius </em>.</p><p>The three of them silently filed outside, and Sirius lowered onto the bench in the smoking area, cupping his hand around his cigarette while the familiar warm sensation of the sparking flame trickled into his palm. </p><p>“Could I get a light, mate?” Remus was by his side already, holding out one of his pre-rolls, and Sirius tutted, sparking his clicker lighter and passing the roll back to Remus with a raised eyebrow. <em> Pre-rolls </em> Sirius scoffed internally. <em> And I’ll bet he looks bloody good rolling them up, too. </em> Sirius never smoked pre-rolls: his hands were always too busy with some great artistic feat or a marvellous oil painting that a packet of orange and white straights suited him nicely. Just easy, laid back, chill. <em> Chill. </em> Remus smiled with the fag still dangling out of the corner of his mouth, and Sirius looked away, feeling his usually caffeine jumped heart skip a beat. Kingsley leaned against the wall, sucking on a straight too, and Remus sat down next to Sirius - <em> bloody hell just go away </em>- puffing on the cigarette. Plumes of smoke were rising out of the white cylinder cupped into his delicate mouth, and his eyes were closed, head tilted back as he inhaled the air. Sirius looked over to Kingsley, who’d moved away - <em> Kingsley you come back here right this second </em> - and was deeply involved in a low conversation with a woman he clearly knew. Sirius tutted and turned back to see Remus staring at him, honey coloured eyes quite close now. Sirius could see flecks of brown in them, there was that little space between the two of them. Sirius turned away first, face flaming, muttering a “what’chu looking at?”.</p><p>“Sirius!” Kingsley called, and Sirius stood up, grateful for the distraction. He needed to get back inside to the safety of James Potter before the pints started fizzing in his blood and getting him a bit too comfortable, but his cigarette was only half-done and he really, <em> really </em> needed another before facing the music. “Nah, nah, mate,” Kingsley whoah’ed, arm now slung around the woman from before. “This is Natalie, you remember Natalie?”</p><p>Sirius shrugged - he absolutely didn’t know Natalie, and now he was convinced Kingsley didn’t either.</p><p>“Well, I’m off to uh - Natalie’s - for a pint or something, yeah?” Kingsley said, eyes imploring to Sirius. Sirius sighed, and nodded.</p><p>“Have fun, Kay,” he waved as Kingsley shot him a grateful look and retreated with the laughing woman. </p><p>The streetlights cast a soft glow over the grey concrete of the smoking area.</p><p>“So, Sirius,” Remus’s voice sounded, as Sirius took up residence leaning against the wall, desperately trying to finish the cigarette so he could move onto his second and finally <em> leave </em> the incredibly attractive barista and attach himself at the hip to his best friend and his best friend’s wife. “That's an interesting first name.”</p><p>“Well,” Sirius dismissed, trying to act nonchalant as if his hand wasn’t trembling while he tugged on the fag. “I s'pose. Brightest star in the sky.”</p><p>“I can see that,” Remus murmured, pulling a green-coloured bag of tobacco out of his pocket, slender hands flexing in the dim lamplight. Sirius realised, with a dull pang, he was going to start rolling his own. <em> Why did he have to be so attractive? </em> Sirius looked around for someone to converse with, or at least stare at, but to his utter misery he found they were the only two in the area. He tried to ignore the rustling sound of the tobacco pouch and Remus fiddling about with filters, instead opting to stare at the moon, heartbeat tinkling away inside his caged chest.</p><p>He looked up at Remus, watching, transfixed, as the tall man gently pushed tobacco into the paper, rolling it up along with the filter. Remus looked up then, catching Sirius’s eye and he poked his tongue out, gently licking the paper and finishing the roll off, not letting his golden eyes break contact with Sirius’s dark ones for even a second. His eyebrow quirked as he finished preparing the cigarette, tongue playing in the corner of his mouth.</p><p>Sirius cleared his throat and flicked his finished butt away, pulling another slim straight out of the box in his jean’s pocket. He fumbled for his lighter, trying desperately to make the flint catch a spark, jaw clenched as the metal thing shivered and sputtered in his trembling hands.</p><p>“May I?” Remus spoke softly, and Sirius raised his eyes to see the other man standing in front of him, holding an elegant hand out. Sirius mumbled an affirmation in response, passing the lighter to Remus, who took it with a smile, lighting the cigarette in his own mouth, then holding it up in a silent offer for Sirius.</p><p>Sirius nodded silently, a quick jerk of the head, feeling his soft black hair fall from where he’d tucked it behind his ear. Remus leaned forward, cupping his hand around the end of Sirius’s cigarette. They were so close they were practically touching, Remus’s head bent down as he tried to light Sirius’s smoke, which shook in his mouth. Sirius could feel his heart careening in his centre, arteries practically thrumming with anticipation. Remus's clavicle, pronounced so elegantly, arched under the artificial titian bulb of the lamps overhead, yet it almost seemed to scatter moonlight as the light reflected the silvery scar that stretched across his sternum. Sirius wanted to touch it, to run his fingers along the scar tissue, the pinkish-grey skin that glinted in any and every light. Remus’s breath was cloudy, whether a combination of tobacco smoke and the chill, or simply the cold night. Smoothly, before Sirius had even registered what was happening, Remus had plucked the cigarette from Sirius’s mouth, lighting it quickly and taking a drag, smirking at the look on the Black heir's face. </p><p>His jaw was slightly lax, open, and Remus placed the cylindrical shape back into Sirius’s mouth, gently tilting his jaw to close his teeth around the fag. He winked, as Sirius stood there, dumbfounded, cold lips gently holding the cigarette in place. He dropped his barely-touched pre-roll onto the floor, squishing it with the heel of his shoe, tongue still idly at the corner of where his bottom and top lips met. He left then, back inside, leaving Sirius shivering in the cold night air, back prickling with the hard concrete of the wall behind him, still processing the fact he’d just felt Remus motherfucking Lupin’s hand <em> on his chin. </em></p><p> </p><p>“What <em> kind </em> of moment, Padfoot?” James repeated in earnest, shaking his head at his friend sprawled out on the sofa, lamenting the evening while a pot of coffee brewed on the side. </p><p>“An intense one,” Sirius shot back, eyes still closed and limps still languidly spread out. He moaned. “I am in emotional agony here, Prongs.”</p><p>Lily sighed, ruffling Sirius’s hair, taking up residence in her usual armchair. “Tell us all of it, Sirius.”</p><p>Sirius sat up then with a huff of displeasure. “I’ll have to show you, okay?. Prongs, you be me.”</p><p>He re-enacted his and Remus’s little cigarette moment on James, who by the end, had glazed eyes and raised brows. “God, Pads, I think you might’ve changed my sexuality.”</p><p>“Thank you!” Sirius crowed, throwing his hands up in the air. “I told you it was a moment.”</p><p>Lily laughed at her husband, who settled back, a mug of steaming tea bundled in his strong hands. He tapped the rim thoughtfully, finger making a light sound against the painted blue ceramic.</p><p>“I think you should shag him.”</p><p>“<em> James! </em>” Lily cackled, and Sirius raised an eyebrow in pretend disgust, hand over his heart.</p><p>“So <em> vulgar </em>, Mr Potter,” he exclaimed, earning a laugh from James and a derisive snort from Lily. “Besides, I can’t. We already had this conversation.”</p><p>“Oh, boring,” James droned. “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal. Either do, or don’t. I don’t think he’s <em> that </em> much of a catch.”</p><p>Sirius flipped him off and LIly piped up around her steaming cup. “Give over, James. That Remus is <em> proper </em> game. I considered a divorce.”</p><p>James sniffed, nose in the air, smile twitching the corner of his mouth.</p><p>“And anyway,” Lily continued, waving a hand dismissively. “You were staring at him too, oh husband of mine.”</p><p>James spluttered in indignation and Sirius laughed maniacally, pointing at his flustered best friend.</p><p>“I told you! He’s bloody beautiful.”</p><p>James conceded with a short nod and a cheeky wink, turning to put their telly on. Some crap reality show blared from the screen while they all sobered up, determined to be hangover free by the time the morning sunlight woke them all up in a few short hours. The bright, saturated colours and whining noise from the screen bothered Sirius, and he hunched over his precious cafetiere that he’d fondly named Simon to block out the sensory overload that Lily and James were lapping up like babies.</p><p>“Oh, Simon,” he muttered, pressing the filter down and filling his mug. “I think Remus Lupin is going to make my life hell.”</p><p>And for the first time in a long time, Sirius Black was 100% right.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Virgo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: alcohol usage, mention of homophobia<br/>girls n boys by blur</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Girls who want boys,<br/>
Who like boys to be girls,<br/>
Who do boys like they're girls,<br/>
Who do girls like they're boys,<br/>
Always should be someone you really love. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Flat white, oat milk, please.”</p><p>“Sure, can I get a name?”</p><p>Sirius looked up from his hands then, eyebrows in his hairline, incredulity twisting his beautiful face. Remus Lupin stood opposite him, behind the counter of B&amp;B’s coffee section. Remus was poised, marker in hand, not a touch of irony on his face, eyes imploring.</p><p>“Name, or?”</p><p>“S-<em> Sirius </em>,” Sirius said, bewildered.</p><p>Remus’s face cracked into a smile as he scribbled “Serious” on the side of the cup, looking back up at Sirius with a laugh.</p><p>“Oh, come on,” he smiled. “I was kidding!”</p><p>Sirius let out a nervous, breathless chuckle, then chastised himself inwardly for even warming to the idea he and Remus Lupin could be friends. He was staying far away, he was sure of it. </p><p>That’s why he was here on his day off.</p><p>
  <em>That joke wasn’t even funny, so. There. </em>
</p><p>Dedalus Diggle, the owner of the London branch of Full Moon, was down for the day, and had agreed to man the shop in Sirius’s place while doing admin checks or whatever it was important businessmen did. Sirius was grateful: it was the first Saturday he’d had off in a long time, and the usual empty Sunday coupled a perfect recipe for an insanely blistering night out and a very acceptable pregame with James and Lily. He leaned on the counter at the collection area, humming to himself as he drummed his painted fingernails in a random tune. Remus set the full cup down in front of him, and Sirius smiled, reaching for the steaming cardboard. He opened his mouth to say thank you, but Remus was already gone. They hadn’t even made eye contact.</p><p>
  <em> Is this motherfucker Quicksilver, or something? How does he move so damn fast? </em>
</p><p>Sirius picked up his coffee, sipping the burning juice and grinning reflexively as the rich roast snaked down his throat and bloomed a warm glow in his chest. He meandered over to the music part of the store, figuring he could say hello to Dorcas.</p><p>The music section was just another reason why Sirius loved Beats and Beans: shelves of dusty records, mountains of CDs and a writhing mass of Medusa-like cables everywhere just felt right to Sirius, like the perfect compliment to the supremely angelic nature of a coffee store. God, he loved coffee shops. On top of that, the guitar collection they had was fucking wicked, and sometimes they let Sirius pluck the strings. None of them were as good as his baby back home, but they were enough for the moment in time.</p><p>“Orright Dor?” Sirius hoisted himself up onto the counter, still sipping his coffee in the B&amp;B branded cups - they’d insisted on eco-friendly, but it made his coffee cool quicker.</p><p>“Morning Padfoot,” Dorcas replied, head under the desk, rummaging in a box of second-hand CDs. “Isn’t it your day off?”</p><p>Sirius blanched a little, hoping Remus hadn’t heard and got the wrong impression.</p><p>
  <em> Well, why are you here then, you silly bastard? </em>
</p><p>Sirius shrugged, placing his cup down. “Clearly just wanted to see you, Dork,” he mused, reaching round to tug her hair. She wrestled him off (“piss off Black”) and straightened up, Pogues CDs in hand ready for a new display.</p><p>“Mhmm,” she raised an eyebrow, round lips pursed in a knowing look.</p><p>Sirius held his hands up in mock surrender, but refused to give in.</p><p>“Honestly, that’s it. Just felt like it. Also, Lily and James are magically both off. Didn’t fancy being in the flat for, you know…” Sirius wrinkled his nose and Dorcas snickered.</p><p>She leaned in a little closer, quieter so only the two of them could hear. “Are you sure it’s not something to do with a new employee here?” she whispered into his ear, and if on cue, a clatter sounded behind them. They both turned their heads to see Remus staring forlornly at the floor, and then back up at them. When he realised they were watching him, his normally pale face blushed red, and he knelt down, out of sight to clean whatever mess he’d made up. Sirius chewed his lip. <em> Why was that endearing? </em></p><p>Sirius turned back to Dorcas and rolled his eyes. </p><p>“Absolutely not. <em> So </em> not my type.”</p><p>Dorcas snorted, moving over to set up her display. </p><p>“You’ll literally shag anyone, Sirius,” she laughed, back to him, so he took the opportunity to retaliate and pull the back of her jacket. She stumbled into him, shrieking, and he seized her round the waist.</p><p>“Put me down!” she beat on his back as he hoisted her into a fireman’s lift, but Sirius cackled gleefully, starting a parade around the store. Luckily it hadn’t hit the Saturday rush time, although the customers in there were all used to the staff’s antics by now.</p><p>“Not until you apologise!” he crowed gleefully, sauntering up to the coffee counter with her slight frame still slung over his shoulder. “I’m waiting, Dork!”</p><p>“Never!” she cried, still writhing and squirming in his grip. Remus looked up, amber eyes round and - <em> sad </em>? - but gave a small smirk as Sirius threatened to drop Dorcas on her head. </p><p>“Cappuccino to go, please Remus,” Sirius asked politely, as if he didn’t have Remus’s coworker slung over his shoulder like a sand bag.</p><p>“I’m worried for your heart. Do you not get any sleep?” Remus asked, firing up the espresso machine.</p><p>Sirius flinched a little, but straightened up and replaced it with his dazzling grin. “Nah. Sleep is for the weak.”</p><p>Finally he relented and put Dorcas down, and she responded by messing up his hair and taking the bobble out, which earned her a slew of curses from Sirius and a promise to get her back as she skipped back to her side of the store. He slung some coins down and picked up the cappuccino, not looking at the owner of the hands who passed it to him, and careened back over to Dorcas, giving her a firm kiss on the cheek and another tug of hair for good luck.</p><p>“See you tonight Dork!” he called as he left the shop, the bell above the door chiming with the sound of his heart. This was easy. He had this in the bag. He had other people.</p><p>He didn’t need Remus Lupin.</p><p> </p><p>“Remus is coming tonight,” Lily said as she passed Sirius in the kitchen, reaching round his frame to fish some snacks out of the cupboard.</p><p>“What?” Sirius slammed his bag of coffee grinds down, grimacing at the light splatter of rough granules that skidded across the counter from the woeful rip in the bag (“Sirius, let me open it, you’ll rip it!” “Piss off Lily, you’re not my mother!”).</p><p>Lily blinked, cracker halfway to her mouth. “I said Remus is coming tonight.”</p><p>“But why?” Sirius whined petulantly, scooping the errant grinds into his hand and sprinkling them into Simon. “Since when was he part of our group?”</p><p>Lily sniffed, mouthful of crumbs. “Because he’s the only one who works at B&amp;B who <em> isn’t </em> Sirius. We can’t just leave him lonely because you’ve got a crush on him.”</p><p>Sirius scoffed, focusing instead on pouring the water into Simon, watching as the liquid turned dark and frothed at the top. Fastening the lid and leaving the filter raised, he turned to Lily, folding his arms across his chest.</p><p>“I don’t have a crush on him,” he replied, shaking his hair out and raising his nose in a caricature of his aristocratic upbringing. “He’s just an intruder, that’s all.”</p><p>“Who’re we talking about?” James asked, sliding into the kitchen and flinging the fridge door open. “Because if it’s Remus, you definitely have a crush on him.”</p><p>“Prongs, there’s a difference between thinking someone’s attractive -”</p><p>“I believe the word you used was Adonis-”</p><p>“- and having a crush. Which I absolutely do not.” Sirius finished, flicking his finger of choice up at his friend. “Besides, I doubt a gay club would even be Remus’s scene. He seems like a jazz bar kind of fucker.”</p><p>“James likes the gay bar,” Lily pointed out, long legs swinging under the table. “And he plays rugby in his free time.”</p><p>“James’s best friend of 10 years is a gay man,” Sirius quipped back, reaching for a mug and the oat milk. “And James has been repressing his obvious bisexuality for just as long.”</p><p>“Have not!” James cried, straightening up from the fridge, mouth full of cheese. </p><p>Sirius shrugged, grinning, and finished brewing his coffee while James and Lily chattered away.</p><p>“How’s work, anyway, Lils?” Sirius asked, perching on the small wooden countertop. “Any grizzly stories?”</p><p>Lily rolled her eyes. “Sirius, I’m a <em> nurse </em> for heaven’s sake.”</p><p>Sirius pretended to yawn. “Very well. I suppose I’d better get dressed for tonight then. What do you think would show off my tattoos best? I want the guys there to know I’m, you know-”</p><p>“Down for a good time?” James interrupted, and Sirius threw an apple at his head.</p><p>“Sirius, you’re a man who wears his hair in a bun, in a gay bar, on a Saturday night,” Lily sighed, leaning on the back two legs of her chair. “I think they know.”</p><p>Sirius smiled his wolfish smile, tossing his mane of hair. </p><p>“To the closet!”</p><p>“You haven’t been back in the closet since- ow!”</p><p>James was silenced by another piece of fruit sailing through the air.</p><p>As he walked away, he heard James mutter to Lily. “He definitely wants to impress Remus.”</p><p> </p><p>Sirius stood in his bedroom at the back of the apartment, windows and curtains drawn. He was placed in front of the mirror, towel around his waist, admiring his tattoos. Every day he said a silent prayer to whatever entity watched over him that he had a job where tattoos were acceptable. He loved to just stand in front of the reflective glass in his room, and trace the ink detailing that stained his skin. He had the constellation, the star Sirius, below his sternum, as well as paw prints on his biceps and what was nearing a sporadic sleeve on each arm. They consisted of everything : pieces of art he adored, moons and stars, and some comedic ones he’d sluggishly chosen while royally fucked off vodka. There was also a ghost walking a ghost dog. He liked that one.</p><p>Eventually he pulled on some black jeans and a black button down, leaving plenty chest space for people to see his constellation on his centre. He pondered over a black or brown belt, ultimately deciding black, much to his flatmates disdain.</p><p>“Sirius,” Lily sighed, exasperated. “You can’t wear all black. We’ll lose you in the club.”</p><p>Sirius held up a palmful of gold jewellery, hooking his nose piercing in and adorning the cartilage holes on his ears.</p><p>“See?” he gestured.</p><p>“Basically hi-vis,” James called from the table, where he had his feet up and a phone in hand. “Shall we do afters here? Do you like my outfit?”</p><p>“No, and no,” Sirius replied. “That’s way too heterosexual for a gay club, James. And we’re not having afters here, not if <em> he’s </em> coming.”</p><p>“Oh Sirius,” Lily moaned. “James, go change. I love you, but Padfoot is right. Pads, we’ll do afters at Marlene and Dorcas’s tonight, but you’ve got to get over this.”</p><p>Sirius poked his tongue out, meandering over to the window and cracking it open, relishing the cool London evening air that settled onto his flushed skin. He lit a cigarette, thinking about the other week, when those cold, slender hands had tilted his chin and - <em> stop it, Sirius. Get a bloody grip. </em></p><p>“Right,” he turned back to his flatmates with a wicked glint in his eye that could only mean one thing. “It’s pre-game time!”</p><p> </p><p>The three flatmates piled into an Uber, suitably tipsy, gurgling the name of the gay club to the Uber driver, who looked faintly put-out. </p><p>As the car they were crammed into careened up to the front steps of Virgo, Sirius was practically out of the car in seconds, inhaling the night air. Sirius <em> loved </em> gay clubs, not just because he was gay himself, but because they were just so loud, so vibrant, so <em> electric </em>.</p><p>“Aaaand he’s here!” Kingsley Shacklebolt’s familiar broad London boom came from behind Sirius, who twirled dramatically, fag already in between his lips.</p><p>“‘Tis I,” he gestured, bowing graciously, dissolving into a branch of hilarity with Kingsley. Remus stepped out of the shadows, and Sirius did a double take. He was wearing a similar outfit to Sirius, except he was wearing brown jeans - <em> who the fuck looks that good in brown jeans? </em> - and a forest green shirt buttoned up slightly more than last time, although Sirius still got a healthy dose of his beautiful collarbone.</p><p>“Greenie cleans up well, doesn’t he?” Sirius nudged Kingsley, who smiled and gestured for everyone to go inside. As the group, complete with Dorcas, Marlene, the Potters, Mary and Peter - <em> big outing, Jesus, </em> - moved past, Sirius grabbed Kingsley’s broad arm and held him back.</p><p>“Are you sure this is really the right place for Remus? Doesn’t seem like his kind of … shindig,” he whispered loudly into Kingsley’s ear, other hand still firmly clasped around his cigarette.</p><p>Kingsley chuckled, shrugging him off. “Are you kidding Black? The bloke’s a bisexual. This is literally what these bars are here for, no?”</p><p>He went in, and Sirius stayed back to finish his cigarette.</p><p><em> Well, shit, </em> he thought to himself. <em> Remus Lupin likes blokes too. There’s a hurdle I hadn’t considered. </em></p><p> </p><p>The club was exactly as Sirius had anticipated, which meant it was <em> perfect </em>. The thrumming bass of the music; the incandescence of the lights that flashed a saturated indigo and coral; the <em> people </em>, all wide smiles and bright eyes and breathless singing. Sirius cornered Lily immediately.</p><p>“Eyeliner,” he said, holding his hand out, and the auburn-haired girl rolled her eyes and fished about in her purse.</p><p>“Honestly, Pads,” she chastised, passing him the black tube. “Every time.”</p><p>And she was right, of course. Sirius always passed up on the eyeliner before they left, insisting his jewellery was enough, and as soon as they passed the threshold of Virgo he was rummaging in Lily’s bag. She always brought the kohl pen for his inevitable collapse.</p><p>Sirius was stood in front of the mirror in the dim bathroom, rimming his devilish blue eyes with a healthy coating of black makeup, when James came in, face already flushed from beer.</p><p>“You did the first round without me?” Sirius exclaimed, sticking the tube back in his pocket. “Fucking traitor.”</p><p>James smiled a tipsy smile. “We got you a rum and coke and a Jager Bomb,” he dismissed, locking himself into a stall and calling through the door to Sirius. “Figured you were doing your eyeliner.”</p><p>Sirius kicked the door in response, shouldering his way back through the crowd to the booth in the corner that sported his loud group of friends. Remus and Mary were sat down, heads bent close together, shaking with laughter, and Sirius felt his stomach twist again. He loudly announced his arrival, shocking the pair up and earning a middle finger from some of the others, and reached for his shot glass. He mindlessly slammed the Jager Bomb, hearing Remus wolf-whistle.</p><p>He looked up, eyebrow quirked.</p><p>“Alright, Greenie?” he responded, throat still stinging with the metallic, petrol burn of the Jagermeister. </p><p>Remus just laughed and nodded. “Impressively done.” </p><p>Sirius shrugged. He’d figured he needed to digest as much alcohol as possible tonight, and the quicker he could get it down, the better.</p><p>Remus had a rum and coke too, and he raised it in cheers to Sirius, who distractedly clinked the glasses and downed his drink as swiftly as possible. The liquid was deliciously carbonated, both sweet and sour at the same time. The acidic coca-cola tingled around his mouth, fizzing his tongue, and the rum tracked a warm, heady scent straight down to his stomach.</p><p>“Steady on, lad,” Mary laughed, leaning backwards. With a nauseating twist he realised her slender arm was around Remus’s shoulder. He downed the rest of his drink.</p><p>“High tolerance,” he shrugged. “I’m getting another.”</p><p>“Me too,” Remus stood up, Mary’s arm falling away, and he joined Sirius as they pushed through the crowd. Sirius kept his eyes firmly ahead, determined not to look at Remus’s face. </p><p>“Two rum and cokes please, darling,” Sirius said to the woman behind the bar, flashing her a wink and leaning forward slightly so the open collar of his shirt dangled and his tattoo was seen. She nodded, pouring them, and he passed her a ten pound note over the counter, which she gently took with a red-lipped smile. Sirius leaned back against the bar, drink already coursing into his mouth, and he realised Remus had taken up station next to him. He silently cursed the tall man, knowing that he’d had enough alcohol to make him happily spill his guts.</p><p>“You don’t like me much, do you Sirius?” Remus commented casually, but loud enough for Sirius to hear over the blistering music, slender hand supporting himself on the wooden bar behind him. His amber eyes stared impassively out at the crowd, his angular lips perched on the rim of his glass.</p><p>Sirius shifted. “Never said that, did I?”</p><p>Remus just shrugged then. “I’m surprised you’re here,” he replied, voice climbing to match the pitch of the wailing speakers.</p><p>Sirius turned, looking at him oddly. “Why?”</p><p>Remus shrugged again. “Didn’t peg you as a gay bar type.”</p><p>Sirius snorted then, into his glass, tangy liquid choking him. He spluttered, eyes streaming, and coughed into his hand, still laughing.</p><p>“Fuck’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>Remus looked conflicted, hand scratching behind his ear again, flashing the moon tattoo.</p><p>“Most straight guys don’t really dig gay bars.”</p><p>Sirius’s mouth dropped open then, incredulous, blue eyes widening in shock.</p><p>“<em> Straight? </em>” he exclaimed, setting his empty glass down, jaw still on the floor. “You cannot possibly be serious.”</p><p>Remus’s high cheekbones flushed pink.</p><p>“Oh, I- I didn’t know-”</p><p>Sirius cut him off with a drunken howl, leaning on the bar for support. “Straight? Oh my <em> god </em>,” he wailed, wiping tears from his eyes, which were still watering from the coke incident.</p><p>Remus had gone fully red now, embarrassment painfully obvious even in the club’s lighting. “I thought that’s why you acted so weird around me.”</p><p>Sirius stopped laughing, straightening up. “You thought I was homophobic?”</p><p>Remus stammered. “Well, you flirt with the barmaids, and, well, you kind of act weird around me-”</p><p>Sirius cut him off. “No, I don’t. That’s just how I am.”</p><p>
  <em> Lie. </em>
</p><p>“I’m gay, Remus. Duh.”</p><p>“I honestly thought you were dating Dorcas.”</p><p> Was he fucking oblivious? </p><p>“Dorcas is a lesbian you muppet.”</p><p>“<em> Seriously? </em>”</p><p>“Her and Marlene are doing afters, are you-”</p><p>“I thought they were roommates.”</p><p>“Oh my god,” Sirius burst out laughing again, too much warm alcohol swimming in his stomach to bother reminding himself not to be friendly to Remus. “Bless you.”</p><p>He ruffled Remus’s hair, who ducked away shyly, hands firmly closing around Sirius’s wrist.</p><p>“I mean, I thought maybe you might be, I flirt- well- the pub, but…” he trailed off, hand still around Sirius’s wrist. “I wasn’t sure. I just, saw you with the woman there, and-”</p><p>“It’s called using my assets, Remus,” Sirius winked, aware that Remus’s hand was still around his wrist. He looked at it, noticing even in the darkness of Virgo that Remus had small scars on his knuckles, that seemed to ebb and flow and spill over onto Sirius’s trembling wrist. Sirius was desperate to get the moment at the pub out of his mind, knowing that as soon as they acknowedged it it would end with a very messy night. 

Remus let go.</p><p>“Er, wanna go for a dance?”</p><p>Sirius raised his eyebrows, unable to help himself. This was a very, very dangerous game.</p><p>“As <em> mates </em>, obviously. You're not my type.” Remus said, inclining his head. Sirius grinned, feeling his feeble heart swell as the shadows of the club danced across Remus’s downcast form. Sirius acted offended, earning a laugh from Remus, but inside he was actually very stung.</p><p>
  <em> Why? That's a good thing. We're staying away, remember? </em>
</p><p>“Let’s dance.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Marauders Map</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>pretty heavy chapter here, and quite long too.<br/>CW: homophobia and homophobic slurs, as well as physical violence. Extract allusion to abusive home.<br/>Alcohol use and legal drug use (nicotine). be kind to yourself!<br/>the song is luv, hold me down by the drowners!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> No, I don't live my life like you do,<br/>So, hold me down and never let me go,<br/>A schoolboy grin that only goes to show,<br/>That I could never have such control,<br/>Every time you leave,<br/>Every time you leave I wanna go. </em>	</p><p> </p><p>The cold London air was a welcome break from the sickly sweet breath that pulsed through everyone’s lungs in Virgo. The group was stood outside: Lily and James sharing a cigarette, looking like adorable boffins; Mary and Peter laughing at something, as usual; Kingsley spraking a fag and looking brooding, also as usal; Marlene and Dorcas ordering Ubers; and Remus and Sirius sharing a cigarette, sat on some steps a couple feet away from the group.</p><p>
  <em> This is nice. This is platonic. Easy. </em>
</p><p>Remus had passed the cigarette back to Sirius: it was one his pre-rolls, and Sirius had nearly passed out watching him roll it up. It tasted funny, not just a different kind of smoke, but laced with an almost citrine tang that was clearly from whatever Remus had been drinking that night. Brushing the thought off, Sirius took a haul, tapping his booted feet gently on the floor. Remus had his legs spread, sat forward on them, elbows resting on his knees. Every angle of him seemed to glow in the night, like a halo of sharp anticipation. His amber eyes were flitting, watching people, observing them as they laughed and moved and walked through their life. Unbeknownst to Remus, Sirius was doing the exact same thing to him.</p><p>A slurred shout broke their reverie.</p><p>“Look at these faggots,” a greasy man with a face as red as rage pointed drunkenly. “What, you just come out of the poof bar?”</p><p>Sirius shook his head, ignoring him, and stubbing the cigarette out on the floor. The rest of the group were too many steps away for them to have jumped in: and Sirius knew James would have been careening into the drunkard like a bowling ball had he heard. Sirius was sadly used to it: Virgo was one of the biggest gay bars in this end of London, and on Saturday nights it was bound to attract mortally pissed bald men with something to say.</p><p>“Oi, nancy-boy. I’m talking to you.”</p><p>Sirius sighed, making sure the cigarette was firmly squashed. He moved to leave, but realised Remus had a strong grip on his arm.</p><p>“The fuck did you just call me?”</p><p>Sirius looked up in surprise, usually used to the cool detachment of the other man. His face was stone-cold: not in the usual gentle way, like a cold cam breeze, but like ice; jagged, razor-sharp.</p><p>“I called you a faggot, fag,” the man responded, sloppily crossing the road and tottering over to the pair.</p><p>Remus stood up, hand leaving Sirius’s arm, and Sirius tried to tug him back down. </p><p>“Not worth it, Remus,” he implored, quietly, shaking his head. Remus seemed to relax at the sound of Sirius’s voice, and he turned back, looking down at the black-haired man. His golden eyes bored into Sirius’s, and Sirius could literally <em> feel </em> it, feel the way it washed over the two of them, the way the air stilled around the auras of the pair, all static electricity of rage ebbing away and disappearing like translucent mist into the night sky. Sirius smiled then, a small, nervous grin, nudging his shoulder to push him back in the right direction. Remus nodded, eyes losing the gleam of ferocity, and moved alongside Sirius to walk away.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s right, run away you little cock-suck-”</p><p>Before Sirius had even registered a change in the atmosphere he heard a resounding <em> crack </em> that sent a sickening pang to his stomach. The drunk man howled in pain, clutching his face from the sharp right hook Remus had delivered directly to his nose. He stumbled backwards and Remus advanced, Sirius still too taken aback to move, and fisted the front of the man’s shirt.</p><p>Remus dragged the man’s face close to him, noses barely a millimetre apart.</p><p>“Call me it again, I dare you,” he hissed, just as their friends jump started like a tripped cable and began to rush over, already calling names and woah’s.</p><p>“Remus!” Sirius called, finding his voice, but he could see the other man’s back trembling as he tightened his fist in the fabric of the man’s chest.</p><p>“Remus! Stop!” Lily shrieked, but the boy in the green shirt paid them all no mind.</p><p>“Go on,” Remus’s voice rose to a yell, and James moved forward to tug Remus’s shoulder, but he lurched him off too, shoving the drunk backwards. The offender stumbled, eyes wide. “Call me a fucking nancy-boy again!” He practically screamed it, and pulled his fist back high in the air to deliver another resounding punch to the face.</p><p>Sirius darted forward, desperate to de-escalate not only the other man but also himself, feeling discomfort bubble up in his abdomen. He grabbed Remus’s arm, tugging it backwards strongly, and Remus struggled against him. Sirius tightened his hands around Remus’s flesh, painfully aware of the fact his fingernails were digging into Remus’s bicep. He didn’t want to hurt him, but he just needed him to calm down - and Remus seemed inconsolably angry, muscles and tendons trembling with burning hot passion, lips curled into his teeth and warped into a growl. </p><p>“Let go, Sirius, let’s see if he thinks I’m a fucking fag now,” Remus spat, and the two of them were locked in a heated tug of war, Sirius using all his strength to haul Remus backwards as the soft fabric of Remus’s shirt slipped through his fingers like water. Remus convulsed, still madly trying to free himself of Sirius’s grip. James stood in between the two men, back to Remus and face to the heckler.</p><p>“I suggest you clear off, mate,” James said calmly, folding his burly arms over his chest. “Now.”</p><p>The man tumbled away, still clutching his bleeding face, bug eyes bulging through his pudgy face, only just visible through the thick mass of shining skin.</p><p>“Fucking freak,” he called as soon as he was a safe distance away, just at the same moment Sirius had finally released Remus’s slender frame.</p><p>Remus shouted a hoarse “Fuck you!”, and started forward again, but James jumped in front of him, rapidly, kind hands splayed outwards and placed firmly on the man’s silver chest.</p><p>“Woah, Remus, mate.” James soothed, pushing Remus backwards as gently yet as firmly as possible. James’s hazel eyes were wide, brow furrowed in concern, pupils flitting back and forth between Sirius and Remus. “Leave it, yeah? Not worth it.”</p><p>Remus pushed James off, stepping backwards, face red and lips still curled back in a snarl, high features adorned with glistening beads of sweat. His fists were both clenched, tightly, pronounced knuckles gleaming a sickening yellowy-white with rage, and Sirius faintly realised his right hand was bleeding where he’d scraped it on the man’s face.</p><p>Remus looked around at the group, still breathing heavily. James remained in front of him, hands out in a gesture of both protection and warning, and all the girls stood together, mouths slightly open, Lily’s over her mouth and Mary’s running through her hair with a shocked expression on her face. Kingsley looked apologetic, at whom Sirius didn’t know. </p><p>Remus held his hands up in surrender, sniffing, wiping his mouth and leaving a watery crimson stain across his elegant structure.</p><p>“Yeah, okay,” he relented, eyes still blazing with fury, taking several more steps backwards. “Alright. Alright.”</p><p>He was still trembling, and Sirius reached out without thinking, but Remus flinched away from his touch. His chest was heaving in gasps, his beautiful features twisted into a gruesome caricature of the man Sirius had just danced with.	</p><p>“Gimme some fuckin’ space, Sirius,” he snapped, and Sirius jumped at the venom in his voice, moving closer to James, unsure of what to say. He worried at his cuticle, adrenaline beginning to fall away, and his heart hammered out of his chest, clanging against his ribcage in a cruel drumbeat.</p><p>Remus looked around at the group again.</p><p>“I need some fucking air,” he said finally, and Sirius passed up the opportunity to point out they were already outside. “I, just- okay?”</p><p>He spun, a flurry of green, and stalked away, out of sight and disappearing, swallowed whole by the muggy London night.</p><p>Sirius made a decision he would almost certainly come to regret, and followed Remus Lupin into the black.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius kept his distance, at least a few feet behind Remus, who had in no uncertain terms asked for space.</p><p>Sirius had dealt with his fair share of homophobia. He’d grown used to it, as upsetting as that was. He still remembered the bone-chilling feeling, the ice that literally corralled through his veins and stiffened his heart when his father’s face had twisted in a disgusted sneer, hand already clenched, lips curling in a derisive laugh. How his mother had simply looked on, just <em> watched </em> as his father unleashed Hell on Sirius, how Regulus had cried at the door and said he was sorry, he was sorry Sirius, he didn’t mean it. Sirius Black knew pain, and he knew he didn’t deserve half of the pain he’d endured. He <em> knew </em> why Remus had reacted like that, because once upon a time Sirius would have felt that snap too, sensed the elastic around his nervous system breaking with a sharp slap. James was lovely, all kindness and joy and mischief, and Sirius knew he’d done well by Remus there: but he’d never get it. Not many of them would, except for Dorcas and Marlene. They wouldn’t understand the way your stomach gnawed and twisted, literally heaved in nauseating tides, a sluggish mixture of guilt and envy and rage, when you stood and faced a slew of vitriol and violence because of who you loved, because of who set your soul on fire. But Sirius had had the fight beaten out of him, taken away with a mighty rip: he could still feel the open, gaping wounds where his parents had dragged the passion out of him. He was getting it back, he knew he was, but he hadn’t hit anyone, hadn’t felt his artist’s hand connect with a face or a body, in a long time. Was it a good thing? He didn’t know. He just didn’t have the energy anymore. He was so <em> tired </em>, so exhausted of the hatred.</p><p>“Why are you following me?” Remus rounded on Sirius, lips still curled, eyes still wild and frightened, like a cornered animal.</p><p>Sirius stopped abruptly. “I wasn’t going to fucking let you loose in London as pissed as you are, was I?”</p><p>“You’re fucked too,” Remus spat back, gesturing at Sirius, who swayed slightly on his feet.</p><p>“You’re not wrong,” Sirius admitted. “Two of us is better than one, though.”</p><p>Remus had a face like thunder.</p><p>“Just fuck off, okay? I’ll be fine.” He whirled, starting walking away, and Sirius grabbed his arm, which turned out to be an undeniably regrettable action.</p><p>Remus seized his shoulders, pushing him against the wall in the alleyway by their side, hands digging into the soft flesh either side of Sirius’s sternum. Sirius gasped: Remus was <em> strong, </em> stronger than Sirius, even, and had him paralysed against the cold concrete. Remus’s face was trembling, eyes still hot and heavy, jaw clenched and nose scrunched in a desperate battle between rage and sadness.</p><p>“Remus,” Sirius breathed softly, and that did it.</p><p>His hands slipped away, and he sunk down to the floor, head coming to rest on the back of the wall. His eyes closed.</p><p>“Shit,” was all he said for a moment, barely mumbling the world. He breathed in through his nose, mouth finally parting. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry-”</p><p>Sirius was still pressed against the wall, watching the fight leave Remus like a fleeing bird, all wings of rage dissolving into the thick air that hung low and heavy around their necks.</p><p>He sat down next to him.</p><p>“So what? You punched a homophobe. Don’t apologise-”</p><p>“No,” Remus rasped through gritted teeth, face still clenched in pain. “I’m sorry for pushing you. I am. I- I hope I didn’t hurt you.”</p><p>Sirius snorted, pulling the cigarette pack out of his pocket. Cigarettes could fix this, right?</p><p>“You didn’t,” he replied, offering a lit one to Remus, who took it gratefully, a faint smile playing on his grim face.</p><p>Remus took a long haul of the cigarette, coyly turning his head to look at Sirius.</p><p>“I suppose I’ve got a bit of a temper,” he said, staring at Sirius’s mouth. Sirius shrugged. </p><p>“S’ok,” he mumbled, feeling his face grow red. “Everyone’s got one.”</p><p>“Not like mine,” Remus sighed, head returning to the concrete behind him. “God, I just get so fucking <em> angry </em> sometimes.”</p><p>Sirius nodded, unsure what to say. What was he doing? He barely knew the guy, unless you counted ordering coffee off of him every day and daydreaming about him and - <em> not right now, Sirius. </em> Besides, he promised himself he wouldn’t get close to him, didn’t he? This was a slope: a very, very slippery one.</p><p>But Sirius couldn’t help it. Remus was so magnetic: there was just this pull, this tug that seemed to snake out from Sirius’s core and tether him to the tender man sitting beside him, throat exposed, eyes closed, mouth gently humming with wisps of cigarette smoke. Sirius was entranced.</p><p>
  <em> Stop thinking with your dick. Let’s just get to afters. Or home. Or somewhere. </em>
</p><p>"Sorry," the Welsh boy mumbled again.</p><p>"Don't worry 'bout it, Remus. Happens to all of us."</p><p>Remus turned with a smile, still puffing on his cigarette. Sirius felt his cool fingers touch his forearm.</p><p>“What’s this tattoo?” Remus asked, clearly itching to change the subject, and Sirius knew he was gesturing to the ghost walking the ghost dog. Of all the tattoos he could've asked about, all the swirling ink and symbols and images that were printed over Sirius's languid body, he chose <em> that </em> one. </p><p>Sirius laughed then, throwing his head back. “I couldn’t tell you. I thought it was funny.”</p><p>A smile played at the corner of Remus’s mouth.</p><p>“What about yours?” Sirius asked, pointing to the crescent moon on the inside of Remus’s wrist. Remus’s face flashed, momentarily, an almost flinch, but Sirius caught it. He didn’t push it, though. He knew everyone had their things, the parts of them they kept hidden. He just hoped for Remus’s sake they weren’t as bad as his.</p><p>“Couldn’t tell you,” Remus replied, repeating Sirius’s words from before as he flicked his cigarette butt away. “I’m still confused why they call you Padfoot.”</p><p>Sirius grinned. “Inside joke, I guess. Because <em> apparently,” </em> he leaned in towards Remus with mock sincerity. “I’m the worst dancer they’ve ever seen. I believe their words were not only two left feet, but no feet at all.”</p><p>Remus snorted. “I don’t think you’re that bad. Besides, you’re an artist. How crap could you be at something like dancing? Surely it runs in the blood? The creative blood?”</p><p>“Oh, Remus,” Sirius pushed his shoulder in mock affection. “Don’t flatter me.”</p><p>Sirius straightened up before the mock affection became real affection, discarding the cigarette. “Come on, Moony. Let’s get out of here.”</p><p>Remus blinked at the nickname, and Sirius scolded himself for the fifth time that night. <em> You’re getting attached. </em></p><p>“‘Cause of the tattoo-” Sirius began, but Remus silenced him by taking his hand and hauling himself up off the alleyway floor.</p><p>“No, I like it,” he said softly, hand still in Sirius’s. “Padfoot and Moony. You’d think it was in a magic book.”</p><p><em> Shit, </em> thought Sirius to himself. <em> You’re falling for Remus Lupin. </em></p><p> </p><p>The two of them got a taxi to Dorcas’s, after much begging on Sirius’s behalf. Remus had insisted he go home, saying he’d made a fool of himself, but Sirius, having parents like the Potters, a roommate like James, and a drunken heart riddled with the beginnings of real infatuation, had heard none of it. He wouldn’t let Remus pay for the taxi either, much to the tall man’s dismay and embarrassment.</p><p>“Afters is probably over,” Remus hissed, hands shoved in his brown jeans. </p><p>“We weren’t gone for five years,” Sirius chastised. “They’ll only have arrived a bit ago.”</p><p>Sirius pushed the door to Dorcas and Marlene’s apartment open, funny quip dying on his lips and being replaced by an excited grin as he found everyone perched at random places in the apartment, drinks in hand, raucous laughter and shrieking yells quickly fading as the two stepped in.</p><p>Sirius could almost feel Remus’s face flushing crimson, sensing the trembling of his hands as he moved forward. Sirius wanted to reach his hand out, still the sake, hug him, do but instead he decided to launch himself into the apartment, praying that the bubble of alcohol and distraction of his friends would still the stammer of his heart.</p><p>“Uh, hi,” he said awkwardly as Sirius shucked his leather jacket off, tossing it towards the settee. “Sorry about earlier.”</p><p>“Don’t be stupid!” James called around a mouthful of kettle chips, as Remus stood agog while Sirius cracked open a can of beer and jumped onto the coffee table. “Join in!”</p><p>A loud chorus of imploring smiles faced the nervous barista, who scratched his head. 	</p><p>“Erm - I, what is this? What’s happening?”</p><p>“It’s our drinking game, Moony,” Sirius called , wiping the dribble of foaming bear from the corner of his mouth. It tasted gross, a little clinical and slightly appley. “Are you going to get a beer and start, or what?”</p><p>Remus just looked amused and very, very bewildered. “Okay, sure. Okay.”</p><p>He was met with a wall of cheers and whoops as Sirius tossed him a full beer can, which he deftly caught, cracking it open and sipping it, face momentarily twitching in distaste.</p><p>“Right. Someone explain the rules to Remus,” Lily called from her corner, crumpling up her beer can.</p><p>“Right, Remus-”</p><p>“His nickname’s Moony now,” Sirius corrected, winking at him. <em> Keep it together. </em></p><p>“Right, Moony. First, you’ve got to shotgun a beer, okay?”</p><p>“And then blindly spin, right-”</p><p>“And throw your can after spinning. Like pin the tail on the donkey.”</p><p>“Whoever it goes closest to has to do truth or dare, right-”</p><p>“If they can’t do it, they have to do a body shot of their least favourite alcohol-”</p><p>“Off of someone the group chooses-”</p><p>“If they want to, ‘course,” James added, and the group murmured in agreement.</p><p>“Right. So why is everyone standing on furniture?”</p><p>“Oh! Yeah! So basically after the shot, we all have to close our eyes-”</p><p>“No peeking, or you have to dunk your face in ice water, and trust me, we’ll know-”</p><p>“And run for the nearest bit of furniture, eyes still closed, on a ten second timer-”</p><p>“If you don’t make it in time, you have to shotgun two beers instead of one-”</p><p>“And take a piece of clothing off.”</p><p>“Jesus,” Remus ran a hand through his curls. “That’s fucking… complicated.”</p><p>“It’s tradition, Moony,” Sirius bowed, and the rest of the group cheered in agreement. “Consider it your initiation!”</p><p>Remus smiled, seemingly at the whole room, but his eyes never left Sirius’s.</p><p>
  <em> We are not going down that route, Sirius. You don’t do relationships, remember? He’s Welsh. He’s bloody Welsh, why is that so attractive? He’s got amber eyes, for fucks sake. Who has amber eyes in this day and age? Oh my god. Stop staring. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The group collapsed, a heaving mass of giggles and drunken smiles, having had a successful round of their elaborate drinking game, fondly named the Marauders Map after the way they had to stumble blindly to different spots in the room.</p><p>Mary and Peter had conked out after the first round, admitting defeat and retreating back to their apartments, much to the heckling of the others.</p><p>Kingsley stood up slowly, holding the sofa for support.</p><p>“Dare I say it?”</p><p>Sirius cocked his head over his shoulder, staring at the man, whose face spread into a knowing grin. </p><p>“Who wants to be the takeaway partner? Chips. Lots of chips.”</p><p>The group cheered, James and Lily shouting their glee from the armchair they were curled upon together, and Dorcas streamed a plethora of obscenities in excitement.</p><p>“Well?” Kingsley implored. “Who’s coming?”</p><p>That got less of a positive reaction, instead shooting a small groan that rippled through the foundations of the drunken loungers.</p><p>“I’ll go.” That familiar Welsh voice, only slightly marred by the slug of whiskey, sounded at Sirius’s side, and he turned his head to see Remus standing up, smile on his face.</p><p>“My man!” Kingsley beamed, clapping Remus’s narrow shoulders with his bear paw hands, tossing Remus the nearest coat. “Off we go.”</p><p>The two of them disappeared out of the door, footsteps fading away in the cold concrete hallway of Dorcas and Marlene’s complex. Sirius sighed, leaning his head back, soft hair pooling around the nape of his neck and acting as a satin cushion between him and the rough fabric of Dorcas’s sofa (“It’s <em> chic, </em> Sirius!” “It’s bloody horrid, Dor.”).</p><p>The room was quiet, last flitting dregs of excitement bubbling into a contented sigh as the couples around Sirius leant into one another, warm arms bound around each other's bodies.</p><p>“Well?” a voice broke Sirius’s calm, and he raised his head, eyebrow arched in annoyance.</p><p>“Well, what?”</p><p>“Oh come <em> on, </em> Sirius,” James leant forward, pushing a startled Lily up along with him. “You and Remus? What’s the ish?”</p><p>“The <em> ish? </em>” Sirius replied. “The ish.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dorcas piped up, Marlene nodding her blonde head behind her. “The low-down. The deal. What’s happening?”</p><p>“N-nothing!” Sirius sat up. “Absolutely nothing. Why would you even-”</p><p>“What did you two talk about when we were gone?”</p><p>“Not much, we-”</p><p>“How come you’ve got a nickname for him?”</p><p>“His tattoo, I-”</p><p>“Did you see them dancing in the club, Marlene?”</p><p>“Oh, I <em> know, </em> it was so cute!”</p><p>Sirius didn’t know what they meant. Him and Remus had danced for a few songs, sure - maybe more than a few - but it had been <em> fun, </em> harmless. Remus had pretended to whirl him around like a Victorian lady, they’d done some spins and Sirius nearly got him to do an Irish jig and - <em> shit </em>.</p><p>Sirius sighed again, deeper this time, sitting back, tucking his feet under him. He looked at his friends, who were now all leaning forward like James, eyes wide and expectant.</p><p>“I’m down, you guys,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’m down bad.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Red Wine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: bit of a long, and heavy chapter. Sirius talks about his nightmares and there's allusion to his awful family. Remus's scars are mentioned a lot. Heavy swearing, legal alcohol use.<br/>the song is beautiful boy bc that's what remu is</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Before you go to sleep<br/>Say a little prayer<br/>Every day in every way<br/>It's getting better and better</em>
</p><p><em>Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful<br/>Beautiful boy<br/>Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful<br/>Beautiful boy </em>	</p><p> </p><p>Sirius stared at the ceiling. His mind had never felt so empty and full at the same time. Being attracted to the guy was bad enough, but actually liking him? Bad news. Sirius’s life was <em> messy, </em> really messy. A boyfriend wouldn’t help. In fact, it would make everything so much worse.</p><p><em> But that’s just what you do. </em> A little voice said in the back of his head, a chilling tone trickling down his nerves. <em> Everything’s fucked up because of you, not them. </em></p><p>Sirius had decided there were limited options to settle it: he could get with him, sure, and hope that Remus didn’t mind no strings. But that meant it might be awkward every time he went to B&amp;B - which was a lot. And who’s to say Sirius wouldn’t get attached too? The other option was nothing, and let his heart fizz into overdrive until it automatically and spontaneously combusted, which would only result in the first option happening.</p><p>
  <em> Shit. Stalemate. </em>
</p><p>Sirius stood up, and padded over to the apartment’s kitchenette. They’d all been too drunk to move, Kingsley included, and everyone except for Dorcas and Marlene were sprawled in various locations of the living room. James and Lily looked picturesque, gently curled up on the large armchair, limbs entwined, flame red hair mixing delicately with corkscrew black curls, the two swirling in a beautiful myriad as James’s face lay nuzzled into his wife’s head. Sirius smiled, softly to himself. <em> What I wouldn’t give for that. <br/>If only I was a different person. </em></p><p>Kingsley slept exactly as you expected he would, looking simultaneously intimidating and cool lying on his back with his jaw hanging open, faint snores stuttering from his nose.</p><p>And Remus, god, Remus. He managed to look as effortlessly unabashed as he always did, sleeping gently on his side, blanket-less, sharp, angular face soft with slumber against the fabric of the sofa. His eyelashes cast shadows down his pale face and high cheekbones, scars gleaming and glittering like patches of stardust in the moonlight.</p><p>
  <em> Get a fucking grip, Sirius. </em>
</p><p>Remus looked cold, Sirius noticed, and was the only one without a blanket. Sirius figured he could have his: he didn’t really enjoy sleeping anyway, because that was when the nightmares came. He gently moved back over to his spot, determined not to wake anyone, and took his blanket, hands clenching around the tender wool. He went over to Remus, who lay on the opposite sofa, carefully laying it over the resting body. It pooled and floated, coming to a small stop as it fell around his curled up form. Sirius felt his heart tug, and decided to make a cup of coffee before he got ridiculously attached to a man he’d never even been on a date with, and probably never would.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius watched glumly at the kettle boiling, insides already twisting with the bitter tang of instant coffee. Only Marlene and Dorcas would use fucking instant coffe instead of ground. Sirius thought fondly of Simon, and the rich brews he would inhale as soon as he got home. </p><p>To their credit, however, Dorcas and Marlene had their fair share of oat milk, and Sirius smiled faintly at the swirling light liquid that interspersed itself with the watery black goo of Nescafe instant. Sirius groaned, sipping the coffee and sitting on the kitchen’s tiny table. He stared at the wall, at the messy tiling, legs softly swinging and mouth gently parting for a gulp of scalding coffee every other beat. Anything to get as much caffeine in his system as possible. The kitchen clock said 4am: everyone else had been asleep for an hour or so, but sleep didn’t usually come to Sirius, and he was glad of it.</p><p>It haunted him by day, still, like a black cloud that sat on the edge of his vision, a dog that nipped at his heels, low growl and guttural choke always ringing in his ears. He could sense it, like a cloak, a curtain, waiting to fall: but it only fell when he was asleep, when he surrendered his mind to the uncontrolled subconscious. That was when it came.</p><p>The more hours he could keep his eyes open, brain spasmodically whirring on cups and cups of sugar and stimulants, the better off he was. After a while, exhaustion became such a familiar feeling, a sort of comfort, another tattoo he carried on him always, and it got easier. It got easier to avoid the night, to relish in the sun and the hum and buzz of the daytime, and sit quietly while the evening passed, while the darker hours heightened and straightened, rearing their ugly heads, and then fell again, sombre, weakened, and drew away, replaced once again by the light, by the day.</p><p>“Can’t sleep, huh?” Remus said from the doorway, silhouette outlined by the faint light of the waxing moon, delicate Welsh tilt echoing in Sirius’s sleep-deprived brain.</p><p>Sirius shrugged noncommittally, looking away from the other man, resuming focus on the chipped tiles of his friend’s kitchen.</p><p>“You drink a lot of coffee.”</p><p>Sirius shrugged again. He wasn’t about to spill his guts, especially considering he was trying to keep Remus at arms length.</p><p>“How do you sleep?”</p><p><em> Bloody hell, Remus.</em> He thought. <em> You’re a chatty one. </em></p><p>“I don’t. Usually.”</p><p>Remus was quiet for a moment, and then he stepped forward, raising himself onto the counter opposite. Sirius stared at his cup of coffee, hands tightening around the ceramic handle, harsh sharpness of the plated material digging into the slender bones of his hand.</p><p>“Nightmares, huh?”</p><p>Sirius’s head snapped up, and he saw Remus’s face so clearly he thought he might die. He sported a large scar, a thick one, that was still a silvery-pink, but wide, like it had been an open, jagged wound. It stretched from above his auburn eyebrow, intersecting the ruffled hair that lay there on the left side, and stretched across the bridge of his nose, deftly missing his eye - <em> oh my god, his eyes, </em>- and stretching down, sprawling off his nose and delicately ending with a soft exit under his cheekbone on the other side of his face. There were more, smaller ones, of course: one splitting his top lip; another, a small one, on top of his right cheekbone; one across his jawline. But he was <em> beautiful, </em> so beautiful, his scars like marks of beauty that accentuated his elegant features, his pretty face. And he was pretty, not just in a casual way: his face had a feminine lilt, so graciously so, but it wasn’t just that. It was the way everything on him seemed so tender, so gentle, even in its creation. They’d spoken before, Sirius had seen his face so much already - God, he’d imagined kissing it enough - but the lighting in B&amp;B was warm, and Remus was a blur when he was there; Virgo and the London streets were dark; Dorcas and Marlene’s had been a drunken mess. But it wasn’t just about seeing, to Sirius, about physically standing in front of him, tangibly digesting Remus’s features with his sad blue eyes: it was about truly knowing. And Sirius knew: this was the face of a fucking drastic moment in time, the face of tragedy. Sirius wanted to ask about the scars, but he just couldn’t: he had his fair share and he’d scream at anyone who brought them up. But he wanted to <em> know </em>, truly know, what happened to leave the marks they had. Because they were beautiful, just like him.</p><p>
  <em> Enough, Sirius. </em>
</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sirius mumbled, averting his eyes back downwards.</p><p>“Hmm?” Remus replied, now making his own coffee, still breezily lounging on the opposite countertop. “We all have them.”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sirius snapped it this time, looking up again. “Okay?”</p><p>“Okay.” Remus nodded, eyes impassive. He understood. God, of course he understood. <em> Is he perfect? </em></p><p>Remus looked at him, truly <em> looked </em> at him, greeting him and facing him, eyes curiously raking over Sirius’s hunched, sleep deprived body. Just the way he looked at him made Sirius shiver, the lazy drawl of his gaze over Sirius’s features; the <em> disinterest,</em> when Sirius was so used to attention, because he knew he was bloody gorgeous; the way his lips quirked in amusement, like Sirius was a parody, a satire, a little psychoanalytical experiment that only slightly whirred the cogs of his fervent mind. Sirius hated it, and loved it. All at once he wished Moony would never <em> stop </em> looking at him, stop the disinterested glances, while also praying he would, hoping he would finally end the amber-eyed scrutiny that tightened and stiffened his every move into perfection. How could Remus look so unbothered yet so observing at the same time? He was a fucking conundrum. He sipped his coffee.</p><p>“Sorry for snapping,” Sirius muttered.</p><p>Remus raised his eyebrows, shortly followed by his shoulders.</p><p>“S’pose I deserve it.”</p><p>Sirius sighed, wrinkling the pads of his fingers into his eyelids, massaging stars into his vision with a groan, coffee cup now empty and discarded to the side, gritty black dregs swimming in the bottom.</p><p>“No, I just. I just like being active. Stuff to do, you know? I don't usually dream.” Sirius smiled weakly through the lie, praying Remus would lap it up.</p><p>And Remus was either insanely stupid or insanely kind, or maybe both, and he just returned the grin, a quick nod all that was taken to dust away the heavy topic of the terrors of the night.</p><p>“I want you to tell me stuff about you, Sirius,” Remus murmured over the rim of his mug, and Sirius blinked, confused and taken aback by his forwardness.</p><p>
  <em> Is it really forward, or is he just being friendly? It’s not his fault you’re a cagey bastard. </em>
</p><p>“Huh?” Was all he said in response.</p><p>“Well, I’ve had proper conversations with everyone. I know Lily’s a nurse and she has a sister, and that she went to private school with you and the others. I know that James works at Potter Hair, and plays rugby on the side for the Gryffindor Lions. I work with Mary, so we know a lot about one another -”</p><p>Sirius’s stomach clenched at that.</p><p>“-Kingsley runs the shop, so he’s sort of my boss, but he’s nice. I work with Dorcas, Marlene’s a nurse and has a brother called Danny. I know more about the elusive Gid and Fab than I do about you. You’re a mystery.”</p><p>He whispered the last word, wiggling his scarred eyebrow, long fingers gently drumming on the countertop.</p><p>Sirius shifted, staring at his feet. He wanted to launch himself off the table, to kiss Remus, to spill his soul, tell him what he thought, tell him the reason he’d secretly started getting five coffees a day instead of three, even though he swore Remus would ruin B&amp;B, but he didn’t. He just shrugged.</p><p>“Maybe I like it that way.”</p><p>Remus chuckled. “We don’t have to be friends, Sirius. You don’t have to pretend to like me, okay? But at least stop being so passive aggressive all the time.”</p><p>Sirius narrowed his eyes, bracing his hands with straight arms on the table either side of him, kicking his legs gently under the table in a struggling effort to remain unabashed.</p><p>“I’m not sure what you mean, <em> Moony,”</em> he replied curtly.</p><p>Remus just smiled, breezy as ever. “I don’t mind that you don’t like me. At least tell me one fact about yourself. Then I’ll be satiated.”</p><p>Sirius rolled his eyes.</p><p>
  <em> Throw the dog a bone, Sirius. </em>
</p><p>“I have a cafetiere at home, among many other coffee appliances, and I’m sorely missing him right now. He’s called Simon, he’s metal, and I bought him from a kitchenware store in a shopping centre. My favourite milk is oat, although I’m a whore for hazelnut too. My favourite cereal is those Rice Crispy shapes. I like Kings of Leon, and ABBA, and I own a Red Squier Affinity Stratocaster at home called Bertie. I name inanimate objects. I have quite a lot of tattoos, my favourite Disney movie is the Nightmare Before Christmas, and I got kicked out at 16. There. Enough?”</p><p>“Shit. So much. More than enough.” Remus smiled, and then his grin faded a little. “Sorry about the kicked out thing.”</p><p>“Don’t be, I was glad of it,” Sirius shrugged, sliding off the table, now leaning back against it instead of sitting on top of it. “Did I satiate you?”</p><p>Remus slid off his seat too, and the small nature of London flat kitchens meant they were only millimetres apart. <em> Oh, no, no, no, no. This will only end badly. </em></p><p>Sirius felt himself lean closer, like Remus held him in the crook of his jaw, waiting for a response like a criminal for a sentence. Remus's breathing slowed, him too clearly becoming aware of the lack of space in between them. His eyes seemed to hone in on Sirius, eyebrow perpetually raised in a smirk. Sirius felt a shudder up his spine as a laced magnetism held the two of them, suspended in the air. <em> Shit. </em></p><p>“Very much so,” he breathed. Their faces were so close Sirius could feel his breath on him, warm. <em> Is this it? </em> Sirius thought. <em> Am I about to kiss him? </em></p><p>Their pulses thrummed in the same beat, every microcosmic movement shuddering from their close bodies in absolute sync, the air and the universe of dust particles enshrouding them slowing down to a gentle float, observing, watching, waiting.</p><p>Remus turned away and left.</p><p>“I need some sleep,” was all he said.</p><p>Sirius put his head in his hands and cursed his feeble heart.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius didn’t sleep that night, nor the following, but Monday night brought a fitful slumber that found him sitting up in bed with a lurched gasp, black hair flattened and curling against his temples, as drenched in sweat as the rest of his body was. His hands fisted the sheets beside him, voices still ringing in his ears, throat still closing up with the claustrophobic compress of the floor in Grimmauld Place that swallowed him whole.</p><p> </p><p>“Flat-”</p><p>“White? Oat milk?”</p><p>Sirius nodded with a smile, and then inwardly a frown, cursing himself for letting Remus Lupin make him grin at 7:00 on a Saturday morning. He was tired: the week had been busy. Full Moon had seen an endless stream of customers, having been featured in some millennial articles, and Sirius’s art classes were booked. He could almost taste the freedom of Saturday, the drunken twang of the Three Broomsticks signature beer, the shuddering dark tobacco of the smoking area outside Virgo. He really, <em> really, </em></p><p><em></em> needed to get pissed. As soon as possible.</p><p>“You work an awful lot, don’t you Remus?” Sirius commented, taking the steaming cup with a grateful smile, wrapping his slender figures around the burning cardboard.</p><p>Remus shrugged. “I do. So do you. You also order a lot of coffee.”</p><p>
  <em> Shit, he’s noticed. </em>
</p><p>“I don’t know how you afford it.”</p><p>Sirius knew: his old uncle had kicked the bucket, and left Sirius an incredibly sizeable<br/>amount of money, and his adoptive father, being the angel he was, had wrangled off most of Sirius’s inheritance from the Blacks. Sirius was set for life, in all honesty: he could quit his job and still consume as many  B&amp;B coffees as he did, and be no worse off than before, not even seeing a dent in his bank account. He didn’t talk about it, didn’t want to, especially not in front of Remus or his friends - but Sirius Black was fucking rich. He didn’t need to be at Full Moon. But Sirius liked his job. He enjoyed his classes that he gave, he loved working in the store, and best of all, it <em> really, </em> pissed Walburga and Orion off that their now estranged son worked in something so woefully liberal as an art store. </p><p>“I’m a drug lord,” Sirius offered, earning a laugh from Remus. Sirius liked the sound.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, how can I help?” Sirius leaned forward in his stool, elbows balanced on the scuffed bamboo of the till desk in Full Moon. </p><p>“Just these, please,” a handsome man slid a sketchpad and some paintbrush over the counter, and Sirius rang them through, warbling off the total with all the monotony of a robot waiting for closing time - which he literally was.</p><p>The man was good-looking, Sirius couldn’t deny it: his face was slightly on the round side, but endearingly so, and his hazel eyes were kind and furrowed. He had freckles - not like Remus’s - and his hands were covered in splotches of ink, mirroring his dusty jacket that sported splatters of paint. Sirius smiled as the man paid.</p><p>The stranger waited a moment before collecting his items, significantly stiffer than before, face cracking into a nervous twist. He scratched his ear.</p><p>“Do you- er- want to go for a drink? After work, or - sometime next week?”</p><p>Sirius was taken aback, and he blinked in surprise. It took him a few moments to register what he was being asked.</p><p>“Oh,” was all he said, and the customer's face blushed an intense scarlet, his eyes widening in panic.</p><p>“I-I’m sorry, no, I-”</p><p>“No!” Sirius cut him off, feeling his face grow warm too. “No, it’s fine! No, I just. Sorry. I’m not really, um, in the uh- the market right now?”</p><p>Sirius didn’t know why he’d refused - the man was cute, actually really cute, and clearly an artist, so would harmonise perfectly with Sirius. But there was a sort of blocker, a faceless shape, a grey cloud, that just stood between the two men.</p><p>“Sorry.” He finished sheepishly, eyes downcast.</p><p>“It’s fine,” the man smiled graciously. “Er, see you around. Buh-bye.”</p><p>Sirius watched the man walk away, then groaned and buried his face in his hands, slumping on the desk and inhaling the smell of the cracked wood.</p><p>“Smooth.”</p><p>Sirius raised his eyes, face still tightly burrowed in a mess of his forearms, to see Remus Lupin holding a tub of chalk paint with an eyebrow quirked.</p><p>Sirius sat up fully. “Shut it, Lupin.”</p><p>Remus smiled, passing the paint to Sirius, who rung it through, trying to focus his mind on the electric beep of the pricing machine and not the pathetic shiver of his weak, feeble heart as the amber-eyed mystery man leaned on the desk, drumming his fingers politely.</p><p>“I didn’t know you painted,” Sirius said, taking Remus’s money and opening the cash machine, wincing at the rattling slam of the metal draw as it skirted open.</p><p>“I don’t,” Remus replied plainly as Sirius gathered the change. “It’s for the B&amp;B.”</p><p>“Oh,” Sirius mustered, passing some heavy coins back into the outstretched palm of the man opposite. <em> Of course, Sirius. Chalk paint. Idiot. You’re bloody stupid. </em></p><p>Remus left. Why did he keep doing that?</p><p> </p><p>The Three Broomsticks was dimly lit and bubbling with happiness, and a welcome reprieve from the choking week, although Sirius was secretly craving the drunken whirlwind of Virgo, the breathless gasps and the stinging shots. He sat down at the table, noticing Remus was already there, talking to Mary again, heads ducked together. Whether it was the pre-game ciders James had practically poured down his throat, or the heady, dizzying warmth, but Sirius let boldness take over and sat right next to Remus, shuffling up as James and Lily joined his side. Remus looked up in surprise at the sudden movement, face switching from mild shock into a friendly smile as he saw Sirius next to him. Sirius grinned, already picking up the beer Kingsley had placed in front of him, tipping back the carbonated liquid, grimacing only slightly at the faint piss-taste: Sirius wasn’t the biggest beer drinker. Remus and Mary resumed their conversation and Sirius’s stomach clenched in jealousy at the way they were absorbed in low murmurs and laughs. But somehow, he also loved it, because it meant he could watch Remus with his guard down, his beautiful pale skin flushed in the cramped environment and low ceilings of the Londonian pub, scars flashing in the dim, amber light that fleshed harmoniously with his deep eyes.</p><p>Sirius watched him for a while, finally pulling his gaze away, determined to get over his silly little crush.</p><p>
  <em> You just haven’t been with anyone for a while, Sirius. That’s all. You can get over this. It’s easy. </em>
</p><p>“Does anyone fancy Virgo later?” Sirius tossed his head back, placing his drained beer glass back on the table with a clang. At least he’d got Remus and Mary to stop gossiping. </p><p>Not that he cared.</p><p>Kingsley leant back in his chair. “Both in one night? Are we sure Prongsy can handle it?”</p><p>“Hey!” James shouted indignantly, sitting up. “Why me?”</p><p>Sirius laughed, ruffling his adoptive brother’s hair. “Prongs, light of my life, I adore you. But your alcohol tolerance is shit.”</p><p>“Akin to a baby bird,” Lily added, leaning on her incredulous husband’s shoulders. “I’m okay to go to Virgo, if everyone else wants to?”</p><p>The group murmured in assent, and a low voice sounded in Sirius’s ear as the friends resumed conversation, Mary excusing herself to use the bathroom and Dorcas and Marlene following too. Peter, Kingsley and the Potter couple were absorbed in a heated debate over Twilight, James and Lily avidly championing Edward and Peter rebutting with Team Jacob. Kingsley had never seen the movies.</p><p>“Why’s his nickname Prongs?” Remus asked Sirius.</p><p>Sirius turned with a flashy smile, trying desperately to capitalize onto at least some false pretence of breeziness, unbotheredness.</p><p>“When we were younger, he was always really headstrong, and he used to get into stupid fights with people who made offhand comments about me or Pete. And his signature move was the headbutt, and they’d always get tangled up. Like he had a pair of antlers. Hence,” Sirius gestured to the animated man, who was near-livid in Peter’s face about the benefits of being a vampire, “Prongs.”</p><p>“Ah, I see,” Remus nodded, sipping his beer. Sirius watched in fascination at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’d like to see him fight.”</p><p>“We’d just hope you’re on the right side,” Sirius charmed back, and Remus grinned, hands reaching up into his hair to shake out the auburn curls. Sirius stomach leered, the sight of Remus’s bony hands nestled in the thick throes of his honeyed hair, fingernails mussing and loosening the crimped rings.</p><p>“I need a piss.” Sirius stood up and left for the bathroom before Remus could even respond, pushing through the pub-goers in a beeline towards the men’s room. Sirius moved in, leaning against the wall, staring at his hands. What was wrong with him?</p><p>The bathroom was small: not exceedingly so, but only really big enough for two or so people, only sporting one toilet and a cracked linoleum sink. The Three Broomsticks was a popular pub, but never had upgraded past one toilet for women and one for men, never mind any gender neutral bathrooms. Sirius had brought it up with the owners once - he was friendly with them - telling them the lavatory system needed polishing up. They’d not done it, though.</p><p>The wall was painted a sickly cream colour, adorned in a thin, almost liquid sheen that just seemed to be the fucking nature of English pub bogs - the sink was a state, faded ceramic sporting hideous marks and a fair share of rust and some other substance Sirius elected not to think about. He didn’t care though, not really. In fact, he sort of loved places like this. They were the furthest thing he could possibly get from Grimmauld Place, from the prim voices and sparkling surfaces, the fucking sterile neurosis of the neat furniture and adorned wallpaper, sprawling with the family tree in a pathetic, snobbish attempt to recreate some ghost of the Cistine Chapel in the dim and dark corridors of that hellish house.</p><p>He supposed he did need a piss, and was washing his hands when the door swung open- <em> idiot, Sirius, you forgot to lock it </em>- and a shape walked right into Sirius. The drink the stranger was holding - looked like red wine - spilt back over them, and Sirius jumped backwards to avoid being splashed.</p><p>“Oh,” was all the attacker said, in a familiar soft Welsh voice, and Sirius stared as Remus Lupin’s lovely beige shirt became infected with a slowly spreading purple stain of the Three Broomsticks cheap red wine. “I’m sorry, the uh-”</p><p>The door swung shut.</p><p>“- it wasn’t locked, I figured you were at the bar.”</p><p>Sirius rolled his eyes at Remus’s never ending politeness, and shook his head. “Who the fuck brings wine to the can with them?”</p><p>Remus stared at his empty wine glass, setting it down on the sink, eyeing the last dregs of alcohol swimming pathetically in the rounded basin of the bottom.</p><p>“Well, clearly not me.”</p><p>Sirius laughed, and Remus smiled sheepishly. “Could I get to the sink, please?”</p><p>“Oh! Yeah,” Sirius stammered, awkwardly moving out of the way, entering a shuffled tango to make space for Remus to wash himself off in the sink. The curly-haired man lifted the hem of his shirt as if to take it off, then paused for a moment, flashing an almost imperceptible glance in Sirius’s direction.</p><p>Sirius couldn’t help it, and rolled his eyes again. “I’m not going to bloody go weak at my knees if you take your shirt off, Moony,” he commented dryly. <em> Potentially a lie. </em></p><p>“Oh I’m not worried about that,” Remus grinned weakly, humour barely covering the shake in his voice.</p><p>Sirius held his hands out. “I have a spare shirt, if you want it?”</p><p>“A spare shirt? Where the fuck-”</p><p>“Lily’s handbag. Mind you, it’s not nice like yours. It’s a t-shirt. I think it’s Kings of Leon.”</p><p>“I swear she’s Mary Poppins. Why is she even carrying a spare shirt for you?”</p><p>Remus was right - Lily really was a hero. She was used to Sirius’s very drunken and messy nights out, usually ending in ruined clothing or cuts and scrapes from doing the most reckless, adventurous shit that he and James could cook up in their gin-fried brains.</p><p>Sirius flashed him a wicked smile. “Lily is truly my Mary Poppins. I could also scrabble you some eyeliner from it if you want? First aid kit? You name it. And besides, it’s only a balled-up t-shirt. No blazer.”</p><p>Remus raised his eyebrow in consideration, then relented. “Okay. Okay, sure.”</p><p>Sirius left, clearly giving him the privacy he was craving, and moved back down the dim corridor out into the bustling main room of the pub. He moved back over to the table, tapping Lily on the shoulder.</p><p>The redheaded woman turned around, ginger hair flashing in the yellow pub-lighting. Her green eyes looked up, finding Sirius’s, pink mouth already stretched in a smile. She was really pretty, Sirius knew it, and he loved her pale, freckled little face that now watched up at him like a little floating orb in the hubbub of the Saturday night.</p><p>“Could I get the t-shirt?” Sirius asked, and Lily frowned, pulling her handbag onto her lap and rummaging around for the fabric tee.</p><p>“What’s wrong with yours?” she replied, hand still deep inside the bottomless pit of her magic bag.</p><p>“Nothing,” Sirius answered, as she brandished the screwed up shirt. “Remus spilt wine on himself. Figured if we’re going to Virgo he can’t be blood-stained all night.”</p><p>Lily raised her eyebrows, lips quirked up in a smirk. Her green eyes twinkled.</p><p>“Alright,” was all she said, and then she turned back, re-entering her discussion with James, Peter and Kingsley, which seemed to have thankfully moved on from Twilight and now rested on - Sirius didn’t care. He made his way back to the men’s room, through the jostling bodies and then down the dim corridor, pushing the door open without a second thought.</p><p>Remus whirled around, still partially hunched over the sink, beige shirt half draped over the splintered linoleum, slender hands submerged in a basin of water.</p><p>Sirius gasped, unable to help himself. Remus was <em> covered </em> in scars: some small and some unbelievably huge, his lower back slashed with a hungry one, surface wide and gaping, like a mouth crying for help, skin raised and flesh bubbled, discoloured and textured. Some were thinner, more silver, surface level scratches, and some sat in a melancholy medium, skin still haggard or size still large. The darkest one was across his abdomen, his thin stomach, which Sirius only saw momentarily before Remus turned away. It was low, an almost bruised purple, a deep colour, and it looked intentional, like it had been cut with a blade. The line was chillingly precise, and Sirius felt a shiver go up his neck.</p><p>“Jesus, shut the fucking door,” was all Remus said. Sirius fumbled behind himself, pulling the entrance to the bathroom closed. He averted his eyes, painfully conscious of how insecure Remus looked, and held out the t-shirt for the man to take. </p><p>Remus dried his hands on the towel and took the balled-up cotton without a word.</p><p>“Thanks.” Was all he said.</p><p>Sirius nodded mutely, still staring at the wall.</p><p>“Please just don’t like, you know-”</p><p>“Tell anyone?” Sirius replied, finally dragging his eyes back to the beautiful person in front of him. “Nah. S’fine. Secret’s safe with me.”</p><p>Remus nodded, wringing out the shirt.</p><p>“What happened?” The words were out of his mouth before he knew it, and he cursed himself for his brash-ness, his loose-lipped beer filled brain. Remus flinched, shrinking in on himself.</p><p>“I. Just, don’t-” he replied smally, his usual drawl filled with pleading sadness, and Sirius’s heart twanged in his chest as regret sunk into his veins.</p><p>“Okay.” Sirius said, a hollow ghost of the words Remus had used two weeks earlier, while Sirius sat, shaking with exhaustion in his friend’s kitchen, unable to let himself have the sleep he so desperately craved.</p><p>“What should I do with this?” Remus held up the wad of his shirt and Sirius smiled, relieved the tension was over. He didn’t want to know these intimate secrets about this random man, who for all intents and purposes was still a stranger. He knew as soon as one of them gave in, it would be a disaster. It was frustrating, having someone he was so desperate to keep at arm's length know that he didn’t sleep, that the rings under his eyes weren’t just some alternative fashion statement, but instead permanent reminders of the life force his biological family had taken from him. He wished he could make Remus Lupin an utter and total stranger again, praying there was a way he could erase the moments where the amber-eyes had watched him and truly <em> seen </em> how fucked up he was. He didn’t know the guy, yet his heart yearned to tell him everything and then erase his mind immediately after. <em> Jesus, Sirius. What a mess. </em></p><p>Sirius playfully snatched the t-shirt, determined to force himself through the minefield of his thoughts.</p><p>“Lily’ll take it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Taking Bets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW for mature content, heavy swearing, nightmares, anxiety attacks and allusion to Sirius's evil family.<br/>pretty chunky chapter yall so tread lightly!!!<br/>cloud 9 by beach bunny - i think you'll know when the chorus should start</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> But when he loves me, I feel like I'm floating<br/>
When he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody<br/>
Even when we fade eventually, I'm nothing<br/>
You will always be my favourite form of loving. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The pulsing music in Virgo thrummed through Sirius, bright lights dizzying and flashing as the bassline hummed into his veins and rattled his bones with physical intensity. He was way too many shots in, determined to mould his pining heart into a steel fortress with a whiskey moat. Marlene had his hands, and they were dancing, and Dorcas and Remus moved around them, laughing, heads thrown back and incandescent saturation glinting off their angles like a piece of glass reflecting sunlight on a hot day. The problem was, glass reflections always caused fires.</p><p>Sirius clung steadfast to Marlene. He was desperate to use her slim hand as an anchor in the roaring ocean of Virgo and Remus fucking Lupin. His head was filled with Remus’s scars, the sharp jutting corners of his bare chest, the way his eyes had flashed in every sense of lighting in the pub. Sirius saw Mary and Remus, heads bent together, the irrational jealousy that had sparked through his gut and twisted his insides, made him cringe and scold himself. Sirius saw Remus, opposite him, perched on the kitchenette countertop, grey moonlight twinkling in his sun-filled eyes. Sirius wanted nothing more than to grab Remus right now and throw up up against a wall, just kiss him, and finally be fucking done with this stupid pining shit that had been ruining his life for the two months Remus Lupin had been in it. Countless nights out Sirius had finished by laying in his bed, or someone else’s, staring at the ceiling and thinking his brain might just whirr into overdrive if he didn’t have Remus Lupin <em> soon.</em> But he couldn’t, because things would go to shit, like they always did. Sirius didn’t do relationships, ever. When he did hookups, he never stayed the night, and if he did, he made sure to never see them again. How could he have a boyfriend, how could he lie next to someone and actually be with them all the time, and somehow hide how much he <em> screamed </em> at night, how he woke, twitching and yelling, hands still clawing the cloying earth that swallowed him whole, voice hoarse and ears ringing from the deafening shriek of Grimmauld Place and its occupants? How could he spend time with someone else when the dark days came, when he slipped back, back into the cloud, the place where not even James could reach him, and- <em> enough.</em></p><p>Sirius focused on the music instead, letting each note hit him with a drunken intensity, tossing his head back. He sensed Remus near him, and clenched Marlene’s hand, but shit - it was gone, and so was Marlene. And Remus was close, so close, and Sirius could feel the music passing through them both equally, vibrations transmuting through each of their moving forms. Every second his inhibitions fell further away, the inner chastisement and scolding melting like candles, each falling drip a waning reason why this was absolutely the worst idea he had had in a very long time.</p><p>Fuck it, Sirius thought, as the alcohol and the pounding bassline and dim lights dredged the sticking thoughts from his brain and carried them away on sweet whims. Fuck it, Sirius thought, as he leaned backwards, feeling the soft bump of Remus’s slender body behind him. It was only dancing, right? Dancing never hurt anyone.</p><p>Remus was pressed against him, Sirius’s back to his chest, and they swayed with the music. Remus was laughing and Sirius was grinning, and Remus’s hands had snaked around Sirius’s waist and just lay there, on the bones of his pelvis that layered in glistening skin as the heat of the club surrounded them and tingled the air. They were moving in sync, smiles plastered drunkenly on their faces, and Sirius knew this was a bad idea, knew it was time to stop, to break away, but he didn’t <em> care. </em> Remus had his arm around him and Sirius snaked his behind his head, round the back of Remus’s neck, stapling them together, and it was them, just the two of them, life flashing around them but bodies entwined in a laughing embrace. It was fine, because Remus <em> had</em> him. It was okay. Things were fine. Things were under control. </p><p>Right?</p><p>Wrong.</p><p>With every pounding note, every pitch change, the sense and reason in Sirius’s mind dribbled away like a stream under an amber, sunlit sky. <em> Amber. </em> Remus’s hand flew out and before Sirius had even registered he’d moved, calculated his plan, thought of a de-escalation technique, something, <em> anything, </em> Sirius’s hand shot out and grappled the wrist, the thin, bony wrist of the man who moved behind him. And then he was pulling him, tugging him, barely even noticing a change in the atmosphere until he pushed Remus Lupin up against a wall, out of the way of the watchful eyes of club-goers and kissed him. Finally, finally, after eight weeks, he stood high on his toes, face angled upwards and he kissed him, their lips crashing together like a heated argument. Sirius’s brain fizzed, and popped, and fucking <em> short-circuited, </em> because yes, <em> yes, </em> this was it, finally his mouth on Remus’s mouth and Remus’s hand splayed on the small of his back, angular face tilted downwards, and Sirius didn’t care, he didn’t fucking care because this was it. Screw the consequences. He was kissing Remus Lupin.</p><p>And Remus Lupin was kissing him back, </p><p>Remus’s other hand was in Sirius’s hair, moving carelessly through the brazen black locks, his other hand supporting Sirius’s back, and he pushed back against him. His mouth on his, electricity fizzing between their drunken lips, mouths cadenced with the burn of alcohol . Sirius parted Remus’s lips and they kissed, god they finally just kissed, and Sirius could feel his knees going weak, his legs trembling. Remus was saying his name, the three syllables, murmuring them against his mouth, and Sirius spoke his back, against the parted lips, all clipped London refinement meeting soft-spoken Welsh drawl in a rushing gasp. Sirius thought it might never end until Remus broke away first, lips pink and fresh, breathing with a desperate inhalation, like Sirius was oxygen and the air was carbon. Then Remus <em> smirked, </em> just smirked at him, eyebrow raised, lip half bitten, and Sirius felt his chest swell and his fibre hum.<br/>
Sirius pulled him back by the front of his shirt and Remus obliged, and then they were tumbling backwards, Sirius fumbling for the door behind Remus and Remus falling, the two of them entering the bathroom, lips still locked and mouths still smiling and-</p><p>“Shit!”</p><p>The two men broke apart, Sirius’s hand flying to his mouth and Remus’s dropping open. James and Lily, hair still tousled and shirts still messed, gaped back, Lily’s usually pale face flushing even redder with embarrassment. James’s hair, usually a mess anyway, stuck up more than usual, horns, prongs, sprouting from his head. He grinned, unashamed, forever open with his best friend, and Sirius stared back, unsure what expression to pull.</p><p>“Only you two would do some heterosexual shit in a <em> gay </em> club,” was all Sirius said, and Lily snorted, pulling her dress back down, eyes flicking between Sirius and Remus.</p><p>Remus stood awkwardly, hand in his hair, face still vermillion from the moment with Sirius. He blinked a few times, and smiled nervously. Sirius realised his teeth were ever so slightly crooked, and it just made his heart pang even more, because no one should be able to look that <em> good </em> with a chipped front tooth, and-</p><p>“Erm. I need a fag,” was all he said, and then he was gone, tall frame backing through the doorway and slinking away to the smoking area. The anticipation and thrill shuddered out of Sirius in a breath, and he raked a hand through his hair so roughly that his fingernails scratched his scalp. He looked to his two best friends, who stood in the poorly lit bathroom, sheepish looks on their faces.</p><p>He pointed at them. “Fucking cock-blockers.”</p><p>The three of them dissolved into laughter, Sirius reluctantly so, but figuring he might as well pour the fizzing energy currently trembling through his bloodstream into some large display of emotion. Better that than bursting into tears in the bathroom of a gay club.</p><p>“I fucking told you, Lily,” James said in between laughs, and his wife nodded.</p><p>“I still win for the length, though. You thought he’d cave in a week.”</p><p>“You were taking <em> bets </em> on me?” Sirius blanched, and the couple just laughed harder.</p><p>“Oh, c’mon, Snuffles. How long did you really think it would be before you gave in? You’re hopeless.”</p><p>“Shut it!” Sirius pointed his finger again, even more accusatory this time. “And not a word. To anyone.”</p><p>“Gosh, Pads,” James feigned shock. “They don’t know you’re,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, hand spread on his heart in earnest, “<em> gay?</em>”</p><p>Sirius tackled him, grabbing his best friend’s skull and trapping him in a headlock, rapping his knuckles on the top of his head. He should’ve been annoyed, or frustrated with<br/>
himself for giving in, or feeling anything other than joy right now, but how could he? The memory of Remus’s usually cold mouth pressed hot and earnest upon his own still lay imprinted in his mind, lips and tongue still burning from the insistent kisses. He released James, giving Lily a friendly shove.</p><p>“No, but seriously,” he continued, grin slipping slightly. “Don’t tell anyone. Please?”</p><p>Lily sighed, leaning into James. “When have we ever told anyone your secrets, Padfoot? Come on now. You don’t even have to ask.”</p><p>James nodded in assent.</p><p>He smiled, kissing his sister-in-law-of-sorts on the cheek. “Love you, Lils.”</p><p>He turned to go, but realised the two weren’t following. They looked around, feigning curiosity and the dark and cracked paint littered with neon graffiti and acidic paintings on the club’s bathroom walls. James looked at the floor, then back up at him, gaze a comedic amalgamation of knowingness and sheepishness.</p><p>Sirius groaned, shaking his head in disgust.</p><p>“Fucking perverts,” he said, before shutting the door and shuddering. “Straight people,” he muttered to himself.</p><p> </p><p>The feeling came eventually, although it certainly settled later than Sirius had anticipated. He was familiar with it, as it usually came as an inevitable follow up from the taste of alcohol in his veins and the burn of dark tobacco in his lungs. Regret.</p><p>But the regret tonight was different, and Sirius hated himself even more for it. </p><p>Sirius regretted it had ended, regretted they’d been cut short, instead of regretting he’d done it. There were like two warring sides of his brain, one that yelled and pleaded and pulled every alarm bell, pounding against the bone confinements of Sirius’s mind, ricocheting on the calcified jail; and the other, damnit, just wanted to have Remus again, to feel like putty in his stupid, gentle hands, slim fingers and bony knuckles and grinning smile that tased like tea and tobacco and salt.</p><p>He found Remus out by the smoking area, which was empty. He leaned back against the wall, in his usual smoking position, head tilted completely upwards, eyes closed, cigarette not even moving out of his mouth. He just puffed around it, cheeks hollowing and expanding in a synchronised motion, plumes of grisled air surrounding his aristocratic silhouette, and Sirius just got the urge to kiss him again, to feel his lips back and - <em> can it, Sirius.</em></p><p>
  “Hey,” he said, lighting a cigarette and hauling from it, sitting on the bench by Remus. Remus tilted his head then, opening his eyes and looking down at Sirius and was he? - he was <em> smirking </em> again, damnit, eyebrow raised as usual, playful mirth bending his delicate features, sharp, slightly jagged lower canine playing at the corner of his top lip, skin pulled taught.
</p><p>
“Orright?” he replied in his Welsh drawl, in his slightly sardonic voice that tickled the back of Sirius’s neck. Sirius became suddenly aware of his perceived inadequacy: he was sweaty, his damp hair pulled loosely into a bun, and he was running his bets with a faded Abba t-shirt, and woefully crap skinny jeans. He hadn’t been anticipating a trip to Virgo, despite being the one to suggest it, and his eyeliner had been done in a hurry, awkwardness stealing his usually steady artist’s hands as he had tried to cram the images of Remus’s silver chest out of his mind. It wouldn’t have mattered now, anyway, because the hot air of the Virgo and the labyrinth of dancing bodies, the insistent and firm push of Remus’s lips against his and the howls of overwhelmed laughter in the bathroom after had caused the liquid to run, and it was smeared around his dark blue eyes in a charcoal patch. His eyes had rings underneath, as usual, his litany of ear piercings were mismatched, his nose ring wonky, his grin inebriated, and Docs scuffed. <em> God, I’m a mess. </em>
</p><p>
“No you’re not,” Remus said, frowning, and Sirius realised he must have said the last part out loud. But how could he not think that, or say that, when the man stood in front of him looked so ethereally beautiful. Sirius stared, at his ambered, street lamp eyes, that looked so feline and yet wolfish at the same time, his indifferent grin, embellished with slightly imperfect teeth, and the scars on his face, and just had to acknowledge this man’s <em> beauty. </em> Sirius didn’t really think it of many people, didn’t really care, but in that moment he swore he would have picked up Remus Lupin in bridal style and carried him all the way across London back to his flat without breaking a sweat.
</p><p>
“Besides,” Remus said, sitting down next to Sirius and taking his cigarette, having finished his own. “I like messy.”
</p><p>
He leaned in more gently then, cigarette in his left hand, right coming up to cup Sirius’s angular jaw, and kissed him. <em> Yes. </em>Sirius opened his mouth, partly in surprise, and felt the swirl of second-hand smoke leave Remus’s parted lips and enter his own. The kiss was slow, slower than the ones before, more measured, and careful, and Sirius thought that maybe he finally understood what the poets meant.
</p><p>
“Lupin? Black?” Kingsley’s bark broke the spell, and the two sprung apart, Sirius hissing in bitterness as the moment splintered and stole away from them into the night the second time over. Kingsley stepped out into the smoking area, a grin lighting up his friendly face.
</p><p>
“We’re off, lads! Where’ve you been?” he asked as Sirius stood up, dusting off his jeans. Sirius saw Remus blush profusely, hiding his splutter behind the pretense of stubbing out the cigarette, and Sirius shrugged, saving the day.
</p><p>
“Chainsmoking, Kay,” he grinned, flashing his wicked grin that saved all. “The usual.”
</p><p>
“C’mon, it’s afters,” Kingsley steered Sirius back through the club, already pulling Sirius’s leather jacket off the hooks and onto his friend’s limbs. “If you’re not too pissed.”
</p><p>
Determined to shake away the stammer of his heart and tremble of his fingers, Sirius cuffed Kingsley around his shaven head, earning a punch in the shoulder.
</p><p>
“Never. My liver’s made of steel, baby. Who’s doing afters?” He replied, stepping out into the cold air, a whoosh of icy gust hitting him in the face. It was still January, he supposed.
</p><p>
“You, you tosser,” Kingsley fired back, letting a bashful Remus step beside him, hands deep in his pockets. Sirius groaned, turning towards his flatmates, who only shrugged.
</p><p>
“Only fair, Padfoot,” James said, and Sirius flipped him the bird, turning to see Remus with that bastard smirk on his face. The group crowded towards the curb, ordering Ubers, and Remus just leaned back against the wall, effortlessly flawless, as always.
</p><p>
“Never seen your apartment before,” he said, and Sirius’s stomach did cartwheels. He may have been a little tipsy, still thrilled from the night and buzzing on the frequency of the Virgo dancefloor, but he knew the night could only end one of two ways, and neither option seemed preferable to his sobering brain.
</p><p>
 The group fell over one another, the nine bodies crammed into the small entryway of the Potter and Black flat. Sirius championed the lead, drunkenly wielding the boxes of pizza, followed by an equally tipsy James, who brandished just as many, if not more, bags of popcorn and crates of beers. Afters was a tradition among the Marauders, which the nine of them - nine now, with a certain Welsh addition - called themselves. Gid, Fab, Frank and Alice were honorary Marauders, but really it was Lily, James and Sirius that extended the term out.
</p><p>
Sirius, having taken another couple of shots on his way out of Virgo to quell his nerves, bowed dramatically, ushering a chuckling Remus into the living room. He was the only one who hadn’t been into their flat, which was rare, considering it was a common occurrence for afters to be held here: it was the nicest flat, as James’s parents owned it, and was by far the biggest, so there was <em> plenty </em> of space for the usual rounds of beer pong or Marauder’s Map. 
</p><p>
Sirius launched the pizzas at the coffee table, already swinging himself over the back of the couch and landing in a tangled heap with James as the two immediately entered a fight over the slices of Hawaiin.
</p><p>
“I can’t believe you two actually like Hawaiin,” Kingsley commented, leaning on an armchair with a slice of pepperoni halfway to his mouth. “Freaks.”
</p><p>
Sirius stuck his tongue out at Kingsley, pushing James off the sofa and cackling gleefully as the stoic rugby player hit the carpet with a loud thump. Eventually, they agreed to share the pizza evenly, and Sirius looked around, jawful of crust, smiling at his friends that sat around the glass coffee table, gently cracking open beers and slenderly tipping drooping slices of the greasy takeaway pizza into their hungry mouths. Remus wasn’t eating, Sirius noticed, so he pushed a slice of Hawaiin towards him.
</p><p>
“Oh, no thanks,” Remus smiled faintly, sitting back, beer in hand. “S’ok.”
</p><p>
“No one but you and Prongs likes Hawaiin, Padfoot,” Lily remarked, sliding some pepperoni over to Remus.
</p><p>
“No really, it’s fine,” Remus held out his hand, going slightly red and looking nervous. “I don’t want any.”
</p><p>
“Don’t be stupid,” Sirius said with a mouthful of cheese, and slid him the third option, the massive meat feast Kingsley had insisted on.
</p><p>
“Please,” Remus pushed it back, and Sirius frowned. He didn’t really care if Remus wanted it or not, but the back and forth had lit a spark of competition inside him.
</p><p>
“Take it,” he said tersely, and moved the paper plates towards the slender man. “C’mon.”
</p><p>
“I don’t want any,” Remus replied stiffly, looking embarrassed and worrying with the metal cap of his beer.
</p><p>
“Why not?”
</p><p>
Remus sighed. “I don’t eat meat, okay? They’ve all got meat on. I’m vegetarian.”
</p><p>
The room quietened a bit, and Sirius pulled the pizzas back to himself, sheepishly, as Remus rubbed his eyes.
</p><p>
“Why didn’t you tell us? We’d have got a plain one.”
</p><p>
“It doesn’t matter,” Remus replied, shaking his head, curls loosening and shaking in the apartment light. “I’m fine.”
</p><p>
“Don’t be an idiot,” Sirius groaned, standing up, wiping the grease on his shitty jeans. “Kitchen, c’mon. I’ll make you something.”
</p><p>
“I’m not hungry, though,” Remus pleaded, rolling his eyes. “It’ll just be an inconvenience.”
</p><p>
“Nonsense,” Sirius shook his head vehemently, almost forcefully dragging Remus to the kitchen while the raucous conversation in the living room continued. He led him round the corner, and the voices faded away. Sirius pointed to the kitchen table.
</p><p>
“Sit.” He said.
</p><p>
Remus huffed and sat, messing with his fingernails.
</p><p>
“I don’t want anything,” he said, but Sirius waved him off.
</p><p>
“You’re eating. Besides,” he said, as he cracked some eggs into a pan. “Why didn’t you tell us you didn’t eat meat? We’d have ordered you a plain one.”
</p><p>
“Didn’t want to cause any trouble.”
</p><p>
Sirius shook his head, chuckling lightly. “It’s not any trouble to order our friend a meat free pizza, Moony,” he smirked, back still to Remus as he moved the eggs in the pan, scrambling them.
</p><p>
He sensed Remus shrug, so he turned his neck, craning it over his shoulder.
</p><p>
“Remus, why on earth would you think that’s a big deal?” Remus’s face was unreadable, so Sirius turned back to the eggs, finishing them off. The silence stretched between them as Sirius put bread in the toaster, turning the creaking switches and mixing paprika into the scrambled eggs.
</p><p>
“Well, my scrambled eggs are pretty fucking legendary. So.”
</p><p>Remus was quiet, but smiled weakly as Sirius set the plate in front of him with exaggerated flourish.
</p><p>
“Seriously, Moony,” Sirius pressed, and Remus looked up, slice of toast halfway to his mouth. “You don’t have to act like that around us, dumbass.”
</p><p>
Remus sighed, a deep, heavy sigh, and placed the food back on the plate, leaning backwards in the rickety chair while Sirius watched him from his corner of the kitchen, tattooed arms folded across his chest.
</p><p>
“I’m just, like. Aware, you know?”
</p><p>
“No,” Sirius replied, lips curling in confusion. “Aware of what?”
</p><p>
“I’m a bit of an intruder, aren’t I? Sort of just. Came. And now I’m messing up the natural order.” He stood up, pushing his chair back, still drinking his water.
</p><p>
 Sirius shook his head, looking downwards at his socks on the wooden floor of the kitchen. “I don’t think the natural order of things is you wanting a cheese pizza instead of a pepperoni. You’re a Marauder, mate.”
</p><p>
And Sirius genuinely meant it, which caught him undeniably by surprise. He’d disliked Remus, and yes, considered him not only an intruder, but an inconvenience, albeit a bloody beautiful one. Then he’d gone and pulled the stunt at the pub that first night, and Virgo two weeks later, and then the bathroom and club and fucking smoking area tonight. He was fucking <em> magnetic, </em>and Sirius knew all about magnetic. People, all people, no matter gender or sexuality, swarmed to him like moths to a light. There were rarely people he sought out as people he actually wanted in his life, in his area. There was James and Lily, obviously, closely followed by Dorcas and Marlene, second only to his best friends. He loved Kingsley, and Mary, and really all the members of their group, but he could do without most people as long as he had the Potters. But he realised, with a dull, and regretful pang, that life without Remus in it seemed to be getting less appealing by the second, and he hated himself for it. It wasn’t like he was super in love with the bloke - it was a silly little crush and a silly couple of kisses. But there was something so warm about Remus, that Sirius just appreciated so deeply. Not many people made him feel like that inside - in fact, he didn’t really like most people. But he liked Remus Lupin. He wanted him to be his friend. Which is why he had to stop his stupid infatuation. People like Remus were a rarity to Sirius, and he could do with keeping him in his life.<br/>
Sirius was used to futile attempts to control his own emotions, though.
</p><p>
“Your pizza wish is our command,” was all he said before Remus was kissing him again, and God, the way he kissed made Sirius feel dizzy. One touch of the lips was all Remus had needed and Sirius was jelly in his hands, completely at his mercy, kissing him back, hands reaching upwards to cup the taller man’s jaw, feeling the soft grizzle of the beginnings of an unshaven beard that nestled in the hollow of his almost gaunt face. His thumb brushed Remus’s scarred cheekbone, running along the marred flesh, and Remus hissed slightly, minutely, mouth opening. Sirius stopped, waiting for direction, but Remus leaned in again, tilting Sirius’s body back against the countertop.
</p><p>
“Padfoot,” he murmured against his mouth, long arms wrapping around Sirius’s waist, and Sirius smiled, just simply contented to hear his decade-old nickname in that beautiful Welsh voice.
</p><p>
Kissing Remus this time wasn’t like the hot flurry and drunken embrace at Virgo, nor the slowness of the smoke-filled whirl outside the club. This was like floating, serene, and gentle, full of thanks and a kindness that Sirius never experienced in these situations. It was a novelty, and he liked it. Sirius felt a tug behind his navel, and sighed. <em> Not now, for fuck’s sake. His eggs will go cold.</em>
</p><p>
“Thank God you didn’t eat those eggs,” he smiled against Remus’s mouth, who chuckled low into Sirius’s lips. He pushed harder, wrapping Sirius tighter, and Sirius was entranced, wholly and fully encapsulated in Remus’s arms.
</p><p>
“Shall we go to your room?” Remus asked, eyes gentle, and Sirius’s stomach turned to ice. Just the mention of his room reminded him of the nights he spent there, the way he would wake up thrashing, sheets twisted around his tangled legs, sweat soaked and burning, tears still drying on his face and voice still clawing out screams and cries for help. 
</p><p>
No. If he wanted to keep Remus, even the tiniest bit of him, he couldn’t let him go there.
</p><p>
“No,” Sirius pulled away, pushing Remus back, heart suddenly stammering and climbing registers. Remus looked surprised, then concerned, backing away, face twisted in worry and apology.
</p><p>
“Oh, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I-” he started, but Sirius waved him off with a distressed hand, trying to control the clambering breathing in his chest.
</p><p>
“No! No! It’s fine, I, I liked it- the kissing- it’s- I liked-”

</p><p>
Remus had put his hand over his own face, cupping his mouth and covering it.
</p><p>
“Shit, Padfoot, I’m sorry, if you wanted to stop earlier- I, oh-”
</p><p>
“<em>No!</em>” Sirius stepped forward, hands out. “Shit. No, no. I liked the kissing. I promise. I, I just. No. I can’t - the bedroom. No. Not tonight. Sorry. I’m really sorry.”
</p><p>
“Jesus, don’t apologise, Pads,” Remus said, tentatively reaching out and taking Sirius’s trembling hand with an enquiring face first, to ask for consent. “Don’t apologise at all. We<br/>
- I’d - I’d never do anything you weren’t comfortable with. Shit. <em> I’m </em> the one who should be saying sorry, I’m sorry I kissed you, I just - God, you’re so <em> magnetic-”</em>
</p><p>
Sirius shushed him. “No, I promise. I was comfortable with the kissing. I swear. Promise.”
</p><p>
Remus relaxed, but Sirius couldn’t quell his anxiety. Just the thought of someone being in his room, next to him while he slept, had sent his heart into overdrive, and it pounded against his ribcage and rattled his teeth. He pulled his hands out of Remus’s, and took a deep breath in. <em> Be strong, Sirius. </em>


</p><p>
“We shouldn’t do this,” he said, looking Remus in the eye. “I like you, <em> Jesus, </em> I really like you, but, uh. I want to be your friend, you know? Like. I don’t want you to stop hanging because I'll mess it up, or whatever. I don’t do strings.”

</p><p>
Remus blinked, then smiled, quickly disguising the hurt he hadn’t been quite swift enough to hide. “Oh. I mean. Yeah. I don’t really do strings either, actually,” he said, and at least that seemed truthful. “You’re probably right. We just, um. We were drunk. Too much, you know? I’m probably still a bit tipsy. Sorry.”<br/>
Sirius’s stomach sank. He’d said it, he’d placed the line, but dear God how much he already wanted to cross it. He almost had wished Remus had just kissed him again, because Lord knows he was close enough to. But Sirius’s heart was still clunking, and he knew he was gearing up for a moment, and he needed to get out of the claustrophobic kitchen before the walls began to mimic his dreams and close in on him again.
</p><p>
“Yeah,” he whispered, and before he knew it he was in the doorway. “Enjoy your eggs,” he called, and walked back through the living room, ignoring James’s calls to <em> see this slice, it’s shaped like an ass </em>. He locked himself in the bathroom and slid to the floor, cold tiles stinging his base as he leaned his head back at the wooden door, just fucking willing his heart to slow down. 
</p><p>
<em> You’re pathetic. </em> The voice said, the one that always reared its ugly head and dripped its poisonous drawl in his ear every time something went wrong. <em> A guy mentions going to your room, and you have a fucking anxiety attack, over some stupid nightmares you have. Jesus, Sirius, what a bloody mess. </em>
</p><p>
Sirius breathed through his nose, laying his head down on the cold linoleum, gasping in contented surprise as the freezing ceramic numbed his chin and shocked his nerves, slowing down the endless stream of breathless thoughts.
</p><p>
<em> You’re safe, </em> he said to himself. <em> You’re safe, because you’re awake. You’re not asleep. You’re not there. You’re here, okay? You’re in your bathroom. No ones going to your room but you. No one’s going to Grimmauld Place tonight.
 </em><br/>
Sirius sighed, blinking back tears, and began to count his breaths.
</p><p>
Sirius watched his ceiling, eyes carefully tracing the drawings of moons  on it. He remembered the conversation that led to it, him pulling his best puppy dog eyes for Euphemia, saying it helped calm him. Originally, he’d been going to do constellations, make a painted universe, but the stars were too painful for him, each glittering patch of faraway sunlight a reminder of the darkness of Grimmauld Place. </p><p>
There was Regulus, nestled in the lower corner of Leo - and Orion, the blazing constellation, cadenced and ringed, made aware by the lopping belt that breathed life through Alnitak, Alnilam and Mintaka. And Bellatrix, grinning in the throes of the hunter, with Melissa and Beltegeuse. And there they sat, encapsulated in the Walpurgis night, and God save him if Sirius’s bones didn’t chill every time he looked up on a clear London evening. It didn’t matter if he had it painted on his ceiling or not. The stars were the embodiment of Sirius’s fear, and every time he closed his fucking eyes they were there, imprinted on his eyelids, scorching burns lightyears away yet so close, so tangible, as if he could taste them closing through his throat and slicing his adam’s apple as he cried out for help.
</p><p>
The only reprieve was Sirius, the Canis Major - Orion’s dog. But he didn’t care, refused to let the dark, clutching hands of his bastard father ever touch the blinking lights that belonged to him. They ruled the night sky, but Sirius had Adhara too, and the whole constellation, he had it, he had the brightest fucking star in the whole sky. He wouldn’t let them take it from him, ever.
</p><p>
With a reluctant sigh, knowing what waited for him on the other side but too bone-tired to resist for a moment longer, Sirius closed his eyes and began to dream.
</p><p>
Sirius avoided Remus like the plague. He figured if he could resist it, for a little longer, then maybe the spell would break. Though deep down, he knew that was futile.


</p><p>
Two colder January weeks marched on, Sirius wrangling his daily coffee trips back down to two or three as opposed to five, but Remus didn’t make things difficult. In fact, he seemed to be awfully okay, still painfully disinterested. Another Saturday night fell, and Sirius passed it up, opting to stay in the studio late. He was working on new tattoo designs to have printed on his legs, and he spent most of the evening holed away in his dimly lit back room, pen and charcoal scrawling upon the matte lull of paper.<br/>
No one was in when Sirius got home, and he supposed they’d still all be out, so he undressed, showered, and crawled into bed, too nauseous to eat. He knew the nightmares would come, had accepted the routine of waking up with a scream still dying on his lips, but who should be there, amber eyes watchful and wary, but Remus fucking Lupin, leaning back on his sofa with a glass of water still clenched in his slender hand.
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Bertie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: keep in mind anytime Sirius is sleeping or dreaming there will be discussions of his peice of shit family and violence. subtle allusion to alcohol abuse, arguing, both of them being arrogant tossers, and kissing. lots. because Sirius is a whore. also very heavy swearing. potty mouths, the lot of em.<br/>the song is i threw glass in my friend's eye and now i'm on probation by the destroy boys. this song is PERFECT for this chapter. go listen right now while you read!!!!<br/>-i first saw this scene of sirius walking in on remus in MI (*very* 18+) but the resolution here is a little less -violent- like it was in that story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Never invite me over ever again,<br/>
Just kidding, please do!<br/>
I really wanna hang out with you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But fuck you! You're so old, dude!<br/>
Like seriously, what do you think you're doing?<br/>
Your hands are so big and you're sooo talll, wooowww,<br/>
You know I kinda wish I had let you do that one thing that one time,<br/>
But in retrospect it would've been a bad idea,<br/>
'cause you don't care about me, and like, I care about you, so that's bad...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>...Never invite me over ever again,<br/>
Just kidding, please do! I really wanna make out with you.<br/>
</em>
</p><p>Sirius lurched to, throat bitterly stinging with pleas for mercy, the phantom of his terror still ghosted on his lips. His hair was drenched in sweat, stuck to his head, plastered around his temples, and the sheets twisted around him, trapping him. His heart hammered against his ribcage in a hollow, metallic beat as he gasped for air, hands still instinctively reaching around to push away the compacted earth that closed in around him. He crawled out of the bed, peeling the dampened sheets away from himself, skin still dripping with tense condensated droplets, and creaked the door open, praying he had not woken his flatmates with his cries. He padded to the kitchen, terrors of the night tugging his memory away on their long dark fingernails: so when he tripped over Remus Lupin’s gangly leg and fell face first onto his carpet, all he said was a muffled “<em>fuck</em>”, voice still hoarse from the screaming in the subconscious.</p><p>“Shit,” Remus whispered, helping him up, firm hands gently gripping Sirius’s sweat-slicked shoulder and sending shivers down his spine. The sense of human contact, the fingers on his arm where he’d felt Orion’s only moments later, sparked a switch in his brain, and he pushed Remus off, hands still trembling.</p><p>“Just watch it, okay?” he snapped, and moved down the hallway to the kitchen, immediately trying to brush away the vision of hurt and annoyance that he’d seen flash across Remus’s face even in the darkness of the moonlit living room.</p><p>He poured himself a glass of water and leant over the sink, trying desperately to calm himself down. He threw back the drink, relishing in the cool liquid that streamlined down his burning throat. Orion and Walburga’s voices still rang in his ears, like nails on a fucking chalkboard, viciously harmonised with Regulus’s cries at the door and Sirius’s wails of pain. <em> Enough. </em> He told himself, bracing himself against the counter top, head hanging low.</p><p>“Are you alright?” Remus asked from the entryway, slender body leaning against the door jamb. Sirius’s heart twisted at the look of actual concern on his face, the way his lips contorted, chewed by his endearingly crooked teeth, and his amber eyes furrowed in worry. Sirius felt a sickness, a sort of guilt-ridden dread, seep into his stomach, because this is exactly what he hadn’t wanted Remus to see. He always did his best to hide it, but some subconscious part of him told him Remus Lupin would be harder to fool.</p><p>Sirius ran a hand through his sticky hair. “You’re a nosy one aren’t you?”</p><p>Remus shrugged, not moving.</p><p>“I’m fine,” Sirius replied curtly, pouring another glass of water and gulping it down. “Think I’m coming down with something. A fever, you know?”</p><p>Remus hummed noncommittally, still looking intensely at Sirius, who sighed, frustratingly aware of his relatively unrobed status and gasping state.</p><p>The silence was deafening.</p><p>Sirius felt his heart, which had only just begun to slow, speed up again. This was the first time he and Remus had been alone since their moments a fortnight ago, and just him, just his <em> shape,</em> in the doorway, silhouetted in moonlight from the large living room window like a fucking fairytale, jump-started Sirius’s heart. He stood there, still breathing heavily, hands clenched around a wet glass of water, in only pyjama pants, and couldn’t help but feel all his senses liquify at the man in front of him, who leaned nonchalant on the skirting, still in his clothes from the club.</p><p>And he smelt like the club too, all midnight and music, the sweet pulse-to-pulse breath of Virgo woven into the fibres of his stupid green shirt that he wore so much. Sirius could see the collar-bone, as clear as he saw it on the first night they properly spoke, and he wanted nothing more than to just <em>hold</em> him, just cradle him and kiss and trace the sternum with his dented fingertips, calloused from years of paintbrushes and guitar strings.</p><p>And God, Sirius hated it inside his head, the way his thoughts just sprung and fucking hit one another and himself, left him gasping for air and needing <em>something</em> calm, something steady, just to hold him while the worst of it passed. It was always bad, but when he'd woken up from a nightmare it was even fucking <em>worse.</em> He craved a break from the reverie, something to snap the haze, to slice through the fog like a butcher's knife. And there Remus was, all angles and raised eyebrows, leaning against the door frame like he just didn't <em>give</em> a shit, and Sirius knew exactly what he needed to do.</p><p><em>Fuck you, Remus Lupin, </em> Sirius thought, as he strode across the kitchen, wooden floor hard and cold against his barefeet, and grabbed Remus, pushing him against the wall, maybe too hard, and putting his mouth on his, only pausing to wait for Remus to approve, to kiss him back. And of course he did, firm and insistent, but the fire of the night and the passion of his laboured breathing coursed through Sirius and he pushed harder, relishing being the one in control, cupping Remus’s slim face with his hands and pressing, warm and desperate upon the other man’s lips.</p><p>Remus broke away first, hand steadying Sirius’s chest.</p><p>“You don’t have to kiss me to shut me up,” Remus whispered, mouth so close to Sirius’s that he could taste it, freshness of tap water and the candle-lit scent of faded smoke. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”</p><p>Sirius shook his head, mutely, and kissed Remus again, who leaned down into him, hands on the nape of his neck, thumb gently swirling the roots of hair that lay there. They swayed for a while, locked in the embrace, and broke apart naturally.</p><p>Remus blinked.</p><p>“Sirius, come on. You can tell me if something’s up-”</p><p>Sirius felt his temper snap, so suddenly he caught himself by surprise almost as much as it jarred Remus. Remus was supposed to be the lighthouse, not the fucking storm. He stepped back, hands in the air, mouth curling in frustration.</p><p>“Just fucking <em>leave</em> it, okay Remus?” he hissed, voice an eerie phantom of his father. “Are we fucking or not?”</p><p>Remus’s mouth dropped open, eyebrows to his hairline.</p><p>“Christ, Padfoot, what the f-”</p><p>“Oh, whatever,” Sirius spat, shouldering past the other man, desperately unable to still the furious tremble quivering in his chest, as much as he wished he could. “Just fuck off, okay? Keep your fucking legs in next time. It’s my apartment.”</p><p>And with that he stormed through to his bedroom, not caring about how loud the door slammed shut, disregarding the nature of the slumbering witching hour. He flung himself onto his bed, veins still crackling with fury, stoked by the fires of fear as the dream still swam through his core with shuddering lurches. He felt a small tear slip from his eye as he stared at the moons on his ceiling, and with a groan, he buried his face in his hands. But instead of seeing constellations when he closed his eyes, he just saw Remus, beautiful face aglow with moonlight, crumpled in hurt and disgust as Sirius’s dream-drunk words rattled through the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>The next Saturday rolled around in the blink of an eye. The shop was as busy as usual, Sirius’s art classes filling more and more, and the queues in his booking book lengthened and spanned over the lined paper. </p><p>Sirius pulled on his shirt, a dark blue one to match his eyes, and did his signature unbutton, exposing the constellation at his sternum. He sighed at his reflection, realising just how worn he truly looked, eyes rimmed in dark blue and purple, face gaunt and cheeks hollow. He should be happy - he was making a name for himself in the art world, his job paid well, and things were running smoothly for the first time in his life. But he couldn’t drag his mind away from Remus.</p><p>He felt like he knew everything and nothing about the other man all in one moment - he’d seen his scars, and saw them still in his mind’s eyes, glinting flesh incandescent under the pub lighting. He’d kissed him, only a few times, for fuck’s sake, and he could still feel the ghost of Remus’s warm body pressed up against his in Virgo. But Remus was still a stranger, right? What was his life’s passion? His favourite colour? Did he have a pet? Christ, where did he even fucking live?</p><p>Sirius scolded himself. <em> This is the exact type of thinking that’ll get you attached, Sirius. Stop dwelling on him. Stop. </em></p><p>But he couldn’t. He cringed inside, thinking of the way he’d spoken to the other man the week before, in the dark and cold light of the moonlit kitchen, breath ragged and kisses desperate, like Remus was a medicine, a drug, an antidote for the poison of the night. And SIrius hated it. He couldn’t - <em>shouldn’t</em> - rely on anyone, apart from James and Lily. And even they didn’t know the extent of his torture, or maybe they just pretended they didn’t. Sirius needed to be independent - he relied enough on his best friends as it were. No one was going to help him. No one was going to be the fucking antidote. Least of all Remus Lupin, and Sirius’s silly little crush on him. Sirius needed to get pissed.</p><p> </p><p>“James, get the door? That’d be Remus,” Lily called from the kitchen as she poured shots, and Sirius choked on the mug of black coffee he’d poured for himself.</p><p>“What is Remus doing here? We never have people over for pres,” Sirius hissed, and Lily rolled her eyes. That wasn’t strictly true - on the odd occasion Dorcas and Marlene had been around, but it was a marked sign of friendship to invite someone outside of the trio to their flat before the night started.</p><p>“Me and James like him,” she hissed back, right before James stepped into the kitchen followed by Remus, who, as usual, looked effortlessly unbothered by everything, cool as a cucumber, skinny frame resting in its usual position against the door. Sirius wanted to just kiss him. </p><p>“Oh, and Gid and Fab are coming out tonight,” Lily added, passing shots to everyone, including a furious Sirius.</p><p>“<em>What?</em>” he exclaimed, nearly spilling the small glass of vodka his flatmate had dumped into his hands. “Why? Oh for <em>fuck’s</em> sake.”</p><p>Sirius <em>hated</em> Fabian Prewett. He really did. James and Lily hated him too, but they kept their mouths shut upon request from Sirius. No one but the trio and the Prewett twins knew exactly what Fabian had done to Sirius, and he intended to keep it that way.</p><p>“God, I really needed a good night tonight too. What an insufferable prick.” Sirius ran his hands through his hair, slamming another shot of vodka for good luck. He began to feel beads of nervous perspiration appear on his forehead. He saw Gideon and Fabian about once every couple of months, when the oblivious Kingsley begged them to come out and party with them. Usually, when they did, the night endured filthy looks between the Potter couple and the Prewett twins, and ended with James trying, stopped only by his wife and Sirius, to drag Fabian off to some corner to ‘chat’ - usually with his fists.</p><p>“Why? What happened?”</p><p>Sirius groaned, forgetting Remus had been in the kitchen, and poured his third vodka shot, determined to forget everything else alongside it.</p><p>“Doesn’t matter. Longer story than you need,” Sirius smiled weakly, still painfully aware of the fact that he and Remus hadn’t spoken since the snapped and heated kisses last week.</p><p>Remus shrugged, taking a shot from the table and throwing it back, which Sirius watched with almost awe.</p><p>“Do you have any tea?” he asked Sirius, as Lily and James slowly slinked away to drink on the sofa, and Sirius could feel his heart clamber into his throat. He desperately wanted his flatmates to return, so they could act as a buffer, a physical barrier, some bastion of sense, to keep him from throwing himself on Remus right there and then in the kitchen.</p><p>“Er, tea?” Sirius repeated, half bewildered from the absurdity of the request and partially distracted by how open Remus’s shirt collar was.</p><p>“Yes,” Remus repeated slowly with a smile. “Tea? I like to have a cup or so before a night out.”</p><p>“You’re an odd one, aren’t you Moon- sorry, Remus,” Sirius smiled despite himself, turning to the tea cupboard where Lily kept her plethora of herbal bags. “We’ve got, er, mandarin spice, chamomile and orange, raspberry and uhm, lemon, yeah, peace blend, whatever the fuck that is, peppermint-”</p><p>Sirius lost his voice with a breath as he sensed Remus reach around beside him to pluck one of the boxes from the cupboard. He held it up, the maroon packaging reading <em>Vanilla Chai</em>, and his lips quirked in that stupid smirk he always did, body still framing Sirius’s while his neck craned to stare at the amber-eyed face that looked down on him, perpetually bemused. Sirius breathed, and Remus spoke softly.</p><p>“You can still call me Moony, you know.”</p><p>And then was gone, putting the kettle on and asking where the mugs were.</p><p>Sirius passed him a cup wordlessly, body fizzing with the closeness of the two of them, mouth still firmly closed as pathetic excuses grovelled along his tongue.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” was all he said, with a half hearted shrug. “I was in a bad mood. Last week. Sleepy and sick, ya know?”</p><p>Remus hummed, long hands still making the tea, and he glanced at Sirius momentarily before turning back to his drink.</p><p>“How’s the fever?” he said, without looking up, and Sirius was glad of it, for his face blushed a crimson red as he clambered up onto the counter, watching Remus make his tea.</p><p>“S’fine,” he mumbled, swinging his legs in a desperate mimicry of nonchalance, and Remus smiled, finally tilting his head back at Sirius, mug raised to his lips.</p><p>“Well, I suppose I’m fine then,” he said around the rim of the cup, intent face partially clouded by the rising steam. Sirius felt his heart catch and his stomach twitch, forever frustrated at Remus’s <em>coolness</em>, his unabashedness, the way he just seemed to lazily <em>observe</em> Sirius, when he was so used to having people fawn over him.</p><p>Sirius didn’t know what to say, and, used to filling the silence with whatever popped into his head, asked: “Are you staying over tonight?”</p><p>Remus choked on his tea, putting the mug down, hot liquid splashing slightly over the counter. </p><p>Sirius flustered, realising what he’d said. “Shit, no. Not like that! I just meant, well, we’re doing afters, as usual. I meant- shit, no-”</p><p>Remus waved him off, eyes still streaming slightly. “No, I know what you meant. It’s fine.”</p><p>Sirius groaned and Remus recovered, dissolving into laughter. “Why do we always do afters here?” he asked, back to sipping his mug, wickedly calm demeanor assumed once again.</p><p>“Biggest flat, I guess,” Sirius shrugged, then cringed as Remus’s face flashed momentarily. “Only big, ‘cause, there’s three of us, so-”</p><p>Remus nodded.</p><p>“So, are you staying?” Sirius prompted, feeling his shoulder muscles tense.</p><p>“Probably not,” Remus replied, still sipping tea. “Calypso might miss me.”</p><p>Sirius’s stomach fell. “Calypso? You- a girlfriend?”</p><p>Remus threw his head back and laughed, kitchen light shining on his Adam's apple and the beautiful curve of his throat.</p><p>“Calypso’s my cat,” he said, still grinning.</p><p>“Oh!” Sirius felt really, really stupid. <em> That answers your earlier question. So, he does have a pet. </em></p><p>“Yeah, she’s cute. I got her when I moved in.”</p><p>“When did you move in?” Sirius pressed, and then chastised himself. He was fulfilling the almost dreaded prophetic musings of earlier: he was going to find out everything about Remus Lupin, and then still irrevocably fancy the pants off of him.</p><p>“Two years ago, when I was 19,” Remus replied.</p><p>Sirius nodded - he’d already known Remus was 21, his birthday in March. Sirius had just gone 22 two months ago, in November.</p><p>“Is that how long you’ve been in London?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Remus said, now sliding himself onto the counter opposite Sirius. “Lived in Wales till then.”</p><p>“Do you not go to university, or something?” Sirius asked, and then instantly regretted it. Not everyone wanted to go to uni, and not everyone could <em>afford</em> it.</p><p>“I did,” Remus said simply, and Sirius looked up at him in surprise, feeling awkward.</p><p>“Did?” Sirius cursed his loose tongue.</p><p>Remus’s face flinched a little, but then he straightened up. “I dropped out after my first year,” he shrugged. “I was doing an Education degree, but…”</p><p>He trailed off, face seeming to climb colour, and Sirius swooped in.</p><p>“Uni sucks ass,” he supplemented, earning a chuckle from Remus. “I never bothered with it.”</p><p>Remus nodded, listening, and Sirius began to finally feel at ease.</p><p>“I run my art classes out the back of Full Moon,” he continued. “I think I’d like to own my own shop, one day, though.”</p><p>Sirius could own it now, he had more than enough money, but he was happy where he was. And besides, he couldn’t run it on his own.</p><p>“Mm?” Remus murmured, tea finally finished. “What would you sell?”</p><p>“Vibrators,” Sirius answered instantly, cackling at the look on Remus’s face. “Maybe cocaine, too.”</p><p>Remus shook his head in amusement, and Sirius felt himself smiling back, a warm feeling seeping into his stomach.</p><p>“I’d sell my art, obviously, with a studio in the back for classes. And then I’d like to have music and books up front.”</p><p>“I like that,” Remus beamed. “That sounds great.”</p><p>Sirius laughed awkwardly, ducking his head shyly.</p><p>“Anyways, what about you? What’s the goal?”</p><p>Remus’s smile slipped slightly, and Sirius felt frustrated with himself for touching on a difficult subject again. He didn’t know what to say, so just chewed his lip.</p><p>“It was always to be a teacher, I think,” he began measuredly, and Sirius nodded in assent. “But all I’ve ever really wanted to do was have my own bookshop. I like to read.”</p><p>“You seem like a reader,” Sirius nodded, pouring himself a coke just for something to do.</p><p>“Oh, I am,” Remus replied. “Calypso got her name from a Greek legend.”</p><p>Sirius snorted. “Of course. Odysseus?”</p><p>“You betcha,” Remus winked, and Sirius’s stomach flipped.</p><p>“What books do you read, usually?”</p><p>“Oh, everything,” Remus said, staring at the ceiling in thought. “I love all books, really. I like Greek stuff, you know. Classics and such. But really anything I can get my hands on.”</p><p>“Nerd.”</p><p>“Hey!” he pointed at Sirius, laughing wildly. “Each to their own. I also play the guitar.”</p><p>“For real?” Sirius leaned forward, pleasantly surprised. “I do too!”</p><p>“I’ve never seen it around the apartment!”</p><p>“Oh,” Sirius leaned back, stretching languidly. “You think I would let these greasy philistines touch my treasure? He’s in my room.”</p><p>“He’s a he?”</p><p>“Oh, come on, Remus! I told you his name a couple of weeks ago!”</p><p>Remus’s face scrunched up. “Erm… Simon?”</p><p>“No,” Sirius brandished the silver cafetiere. “<em>This</em> is Simon. My guitar is called Bertie.”</p><p>“Ah, yes,” Remus nodded in mock sincerity, and Sirius threw a towel at him. “The Stratocaster, right?”</p><p>Sirius nodded, pleased, until the towel hit him again. He flipped a giggling Remus the bird.</p><p>“I’ll show you it sometime, when I’m not so tipsy.”</p><p>“I’d like that,” Remus drawled. “I’ll play you a love song at some point on mine. Not a Stratocaster, though.”</p><p>Sirius stuck up a V at Remus. “No matter, no matter.”</p><p>They fell into comfortable silence, broken by Remus.</p><p>“I think that’s the most we’ve spoken, like, ever,” he said, and SIrius hummed in agreement. “Say, Sirius, what’s your favourite colour?”</p><p>“Mine?” Sirius laughed, screwing his face up in consideration. “I like dark blue, although I own a lot of black stuff. Black and blue.”</p><p>“Mine’s green, I think. Maybe.”</p><p>“Maybe?”</p><p>“Well, just until they discover a new colour, of course.”</p><p>Sirius barked in laughter. “What would you name it?”</p><p>“Depends.”</p><p>“On what?”</p><p>“Well, what it looks like, dipshit. Obviously.”</p><p>“Hey!” Sirius held his hand up, threatening to throw an apple at Remus’s head. Remus held his hands up in mock surrender.</p><p>“I’d call it Bertie,” he grinned.</p><p> </p><p>Virgo was a sprawling mass of languid bodies, all moving fluidly around an already hazy Sirius, who shouldered his way to the bar, having reluctantly agreed to do the next round. He was determined to dance, far away from the Prewett twins, who were stretched out in the booth, engaged in conversations with the others, deliberately ignorant to the seething glare of James Potter.</p><p>Sirius set the rum and cokes down on the table with a clink, his already in his mouth, and James took one gratefully.</p><p>“Cheers Pads. Is it-”</p><p>“Double strength?” Sirius grinned, tossing his hair in typical fashion. “Don’t you know it, Prongsy-boy.”</p><p>James smiled and deeply drank his drink, face already heady and red.</p><p>“Padfoot, my most beautiful other half,” he began, stepping out from the booth and bowing down, flourished, extending an arm in an aristocratic fashion. “Would you care?”</p><p>Sirius giggled gleefully, dramatically taking his best friend’s arm and dragging him out towards the dancefloor, determined to stay as far away from Fabian - and more difficultly, Remus - as possible.</p><p>James danced with all the grace of a tipsy grandpa, and Sirius laughed as he moved around the floor, seemingly unbothered by his clunky movements.</p><p>“Stick to the rugby field, Prongs,” Sirius shouted in his ear, earning a cuff around the head. Sirius smiled, dazzlingly, and twirled away, relishing himself in the moving, oceanic mass of shapes that lapped like the sea against the cliff of euphoria. The music was high, energy buzzing, and Sirius’s body thrummed and pulsed with the bassline and flashing lights that seemed to slow down time. He couldn’t enjoy it fully, despite himself, because all he really wanted to do was feel Remus’s cold hands around him and dance with him, bodies pressed together and then falling away like drifting magnets, feeling the ecstasy of the humming crowd equally within themselves and one another. He considered asking James where Remus was, but he didn’t want to seem desperate, and, besides, he’d probably kiss the shit out of him, given his alcohol intake and the way Virgo made him feel.</p><p>His pleasant dancing was rudely interrupted as a wave of cold water sloshed down his front, a forlorn James standing with two empty glasses, staring warily at his best friend who now stood drenched in alcohol.</p><p>“Prongs, you bastard!” Sirius shouted over the music, and James shrugged, apologetically.</p><p>“Sorry, Pads!” he yelled back, but Sirius shook his head, punching his friend in the arm. It was hard to ever be mad at James.</p><p>“I’m going to clean up,” he enunciated over the pounding bassline, and James was either a supremely good lip-reader or he just didn’t care, and nodded, weaving again through the crowd to get replacement drinks. Sirius huffed as the coldness seeped into his skin, the front of his blue shirt now sopping, and he pushed his way through the moving bodies, ignoring the yelps and “excuse you”’s.</p><p>Sirius shouldered the disabled bathroom door open, inebriated brain lulling him into the false assumption it was empty. He pulled his shirt off, eyes drunkenly staring at the floor and then nothing as the fabric came loose in his hands. He didn’t shiver, and almost enjoyed the delayering, as his skin glistened with sweat and the back of his neck itched with the feverish heat of the club. He shook the shirt out, still muttering curses at Prongs, turning the hand-dryer on.</p><p>“Fucking unco-ordinated prick,” he mumbled to himself, holding his shirt under the pathetic heated air.</p><p>“Erm, Sirius?” a voice sounded behind him, and Sirius spun around to see Remus, shirt unbuttoned and hair tousled, standing awkwardly next to a very handsome man, who - all credit to him - seemed relatively unfazed, leaning backwards against the wall with his top clutched over himself. With a twisted, sickening pang Sirius realised he recognised him- awareness dumbly dawned on him. Caradoc fucking Dearborn.</p><p>“Shit,” he mumbled, already putting his shirt back on, messing with the buttons, fingers shaking.

</p><p><em> Why do you care?</em> He scolded himself. <em> Remus isn’t your bloody boyfriend. You kissed once. Or twice. Technically three times, but anyways. You told him you were friends. </em></p><p>Remus was leaning backwards onto the wall too, eyebrow raised and arms crossed over himself. He looked <em>impatient,</em> Sirius realised, and bitterness swelled up in his throat despite the inner monologue that rallied against his spinning, jealous thoughts.</p><p>“I’ll get out of your hair,” he said sweetly, voice dripping with sarcasm, and was out of the door in seconds, slamming it shut and stalking towards the smoking area, desperately trying to de-escalate the irrational annoyance that sparked through his veins.</p><p>The smoking area was empty, thank God, and Sirius sat alone. He was on his third cigarette when Remus stepped out, looking significantly less dishevelled than before.</p><p>“Only ten minutes, Moony? What, are you a bit quick off the mark?”</p><p>Sirius had too much sluggish rum pouring through his body to care about politeness, but Remus, unbothered as always, just shrugged, sparking up.</p><p>“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he replied curtly, and Sirius just grunted, tugging on the fag to avoid having to respond.</p><p>But, in the typical Sirius Black fashion, he couldn’t just bite his tongue.</p><p>“She was pretty,” he commented dryly through a mouthful of smoke. “Too pretty for you.”</p><p>Sirius didn’t know why he’d said it, and he knew it was really nasty. But that was the nature of him. Years of torment at home and nearly a decade of being the gay kid at a fucking Tory boarding school had developed him a sharper tongue than necessary. He hated it when his mean streak rallied, but it was like a fucking viper, and it slipped through his fingers like water.</p><p>Remus chuckled hollowly. “I don’t think you believe that, Sirius.”</p><p>Sirius seethed and finished his cigarette, lighting another before the stub of the other had barely even fallen to the ground.</p><p>“You don’t know shit.”</p><p>Remus turned to him.</p><p>“What’s your problem now then?”</p><p>The rational part of Sirius wanted to de-escalate, was desperate for the easy friendship that had been slowly coming for the past few weeks. But the other part of him thought, <em>yes, fucking finally. Let’s have it out. </em> Irritation surged through Sirius’s chest: at Remus, for uprooting his love life - he hadn’t genuinely felt much for anyone since Remus, and every time he was with someone after a night out he’d lie awake and think about the stupid barista; at Fabian, for just setting him off and pushing the drunkenness into the angry sphere instead of happy grounds; and Remus, again, for just being so fucking beautifully unbothered by Sirius. It would be easier if Remus was all over him, fawning and begging at his heels. But it was the chase, the way Remus just didn’t <em>care</em>. It boiled Sirius’s blood.</p><p>“You. You’re my fucking problem.”</p><p>Remus laughed, and Sirius looked up in surprise. It was hypocritical of him, he knew that, but the meanness, the icy shard of glass in his voice as he replied, caught Sirius by surprise. He remembered their first night at Virgo, how Remus had cracked the man’s face open. Remus wasn’t all ocean breeze and calm indifference. But Sirius had his hackles raised, and he wanted a fight.</p><p>“What? You <em>jealous,</em> Sirius?”</p><p>Sirius stood up, flicking his cigarette away, veins fizzing and popping.</p><p>“What? Jealous? Jealous that you’re off for a shag every five minutes? Don’t think I can’t see right through you, Remus.”</p><p>Remus’s face was a thundercloud. He stepped closer.</p><p>“Like you don’t shag every living thing in sight?”</p><p>Sirius flinched.</p><p>“Oh, come off it Sirius. Every night you’re out with someone.” Remus raised an accusatory finger. “It took you 10 weeks, <em>10 weeks</em> to kiss me and now you’re upset I got off with a girl in the bathroom. Pathetic.”</p><p>Sirius glowered, fists balling up at his side. A vein in his temple twitched, and for a lucid moment, he thought he might break his physical fighting hiatus.</p><p>“Is that it? With Fabian? You shagged him didn’t you?”</p><p>Sirius gasped - not only with the incredible innaccuracy, but also the fucking gall, the fucking boldness.</p><p>“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” he hissed, and the two of them were only millimetres apart.</p><p>“A fucking coward,” Remus whispered back. “What’s the real reason you’re such a<br/>
cunt to me, Sirius? Why are you such an evil bastard? What’re you hiding, hmm?”</p><p>Orion clambered up in Sirius’s throat, determined to taste blood. Remus had him in his jaws, but Sirius wanted savagery.<br/>
Sirius spat through gritted teeth. “Like you aren’t hiding a fucking exhibition under your shirt, <em>Moony.</em>”</p><p>Moony’s face went blank with shock.</p><p>“You fucking think you can come in here, fucking deposit yourself into <em>my</em>-” he pushed Remus backwards, “-life, and I’ll let you walk all over me? I keep my secrets and you fucking keep yours, okay?”</p><p>Remus was silent.</p><p>“Fuck you,” Sirius breathed, and he wasn’t sure anymore where he started and Remus ended. Both of them breathed heavy, alone in the dark lamplit street, cigarettes smoking away on the floor, both too drunk and furious to stub them out properly.</p><p>Sirius kissed him, before he even knew what he was doing. He kissed fast, and hard, pushing Remus backwards into the wall. But Remus was angry too, and he gripped Sirius’s shoulders, spinning him around and forcing him flat onto the concrete, lifting his legs, hands closed firmly around his wrists. Sirius gasped, surprised, but not upset by the force, and let Remus.</p><p>“Padfoot,” Remus said against his mouth, lips still crashing together, and Sirius, still drunkenly savage with fury bubbling in his veins, bit his lower lip and gripped Remus’s shoulders tightly, feeling his painted fingernails dig in.</p><p>“Jesus, you two,” James’s voice sounded from the doorway, and the pair broke apart, still gasping for breath. The moment fizzled and cracked, like a shard of glass snapping clean in two. Remus backed away, sheened with sweat, amber eyes dark and corralled with frustration. Sirius panted, fists still clenched, unsure whether to scream at Remus or just kiss him again.</p><p>James tutted and took his best friend by the arm, steering him back into the club.</p><p>“Honestly, Pads,” he sighed, as Sirius shook him off. “Just fucking get a move on.”</p><p> </p><p>The group traipsed in, pizzas in hand, but Sirius was significantly more sombre than when he’d left. Gid and Fab were gone, thank fuck, and so were Kingsley and Peter. Dorcas and Marlene framed themselves around the coffee table, James and Lily brandished the pizza, and Remus and Mary collapsed into conversation. Sirius seethed, and moved to the kitchen to pour another drink.</p><p>He rummaged through the cupboards, inwardly cursing his flatmates for not buying more alcohol. They always <em>worried</em> about him, worried he was drinking too much, or drinking on his own. For fuck’s sake, he didn’t need <em>pity</em>, he just needed a glass of liquid luck.</p><p>Sighing, he positioned himself by the kitchen window, cracking it open and lighting a cigarette with shaky fingers. Remus and Mary came in, still laughing, and Sirius felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He raised an eyebrow at the pair: Mary, blissfully unaware, grinned at him.</p><p>“Alright, Siri?” she smiled. “Remus said Lily has an excellent tea collection.”</p><p>“Did he?” Sirius replied, taking a long drag, determined to cut as deep as possible without raising his voice. His front teeth clicked together impatiently. “Maybe Remus could show you his in his <em>own</em> fucking apartment.”</p><p>Remus flinched, chewing his lip.</p><p>“Well, Sirius. You guys have the <em>best</em> one, anyways. Don’t you?”</p><p>Sirius laughed hollowly. Mary looked between the two, like she was watching a tennis match, and fumbled with her fingernails.</p><p>“What, you <em>jealous</em>, Moony?” Sirius retorted, bitterly echoing Remus’s earlier words. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mary quietly slip away, but he didn’t care. </p><p>The annoyance crackled and fizzed in the room, electric, static.</p><p>“Of what? Hmm?”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know,” Remus replied, leaning back on the counter, stirring his tea. “Jealous that Fabian didn’t pay you any attention?”</p><p>Sirius’s skin crawled at the lowness of the blow, the fucking venom, and his next sentence came out barely a hiss.</p><p>“You don’t know shit about me and Fabian,” he said darkly, and Remus just raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know anything, you hear me? You keep it out of your fucking mouth.”</p><p>All credit to him, Remus didn’t seem bothered by the acidity of Sirius’s low rumble.</p><p>“Whatever,” he shrugged. “Whatever you say, <em>Padfoot.</em>”</p><p>Sirius was up in a flash, trembling. Remus blinked, surprised, and opened his mouth, but in a fell swoop Sirius got there first.</p><p>“Don’t ever fucking talk to me about it again, okay?” Sirius spat, and Remus’s lip curled in anger.</p><p>“Come on, Padfoot,” he replied back, leaning forward, faces only inches away. “What’s the big deal? Friends for 10 weeks, right? That’s long enough. Tell me your little secrets.”</p><p>Sirius put a finger on the slender man’s chest, voice shaking with sadness and anger.</p><p>“You’re not a good one at following instructions, are you?” </p><p>Remus just glared back, beautiful face twisted in scorn.</p><p>“Something tells me you aren’t either, Sirius.”</p><p>Sirius’s heart pounded against his chest, teeth chattering together as his body thrummed with fury. All he wanted to do was scream, and hit something, or <em>someone,</em> just lash out and release the trembling energy that clogged up his nervous system. But by some grace of the gods, he just stepped back, looking Remus up and down cruelly, as if to say <em>you aren’t shit.</em></p><p>It was a lie, of course. Remus was very much the shit, at least to Sirius. He was beautiful, more beautiful than any guy Sirius had encountered before. His eyes were kind, except for when they weren’t, but <em>Christ,</em> Sirius felt gleeful when the thundercloud darkened his high cheekbones and slender jaw, lightning mirroring with the jagged scars that crossed his face and form. That wasn’t healthy, Sirius knew, relishing in seeing the other man so furious, but he felt like he could finally break down a wall. Sirius had some fucking baggae, and Remus acted like he travelled light. And God, if Sirius didn’t love it when he slashed Remus’s suitcase to bits.</p><p>“Fucking stay away from me,” was all he said, backing out of the kitchen, discarding the still smoking cigarette in the ashtray. </p><p>He stalked through the living room, stomping straight into his room and closing the door with a mighty slam that echoed through the apartment and quietened the conversations around the coffee table. The flat was silent, for a moment, until words began to tentatively spill again, clearly as Remus re-entered the room. </p><p>Sirius sat on his bed, glowering at the door, wishing more than anything he had magic powers so he could send a fucking crack through the white wood. But alas, he didn’t, and so the venom of his glare just bounced off the painted surface, blocking the laughs in the living room from feeling the dark poison of his blue-eyed seethe.</p><p>A knock came quietly at the door.</p><p>“Fuck off,” Sirius called, rolling to his side and diverting his glare to the wall.</p><p>“It’s James,” his roommate said quietly, and Sirius sighed, turning onto his back and rubbing his eyes. </p><p>“Come in,” he replied, secretly thankful. If anyone could solve the world’s - and more importantly to him right now, Sirius’s - problems, it was James Potter.</p><p>The bespectacled man came and sat next to Sirius after closing the door behind him, putting his arm around the crumpled, long-haired man.</p><p>“What was that about, hmm, Pads?”</p><p>Sirius shrugged, leaning his head on the taller boy's shoulder.</p><p>“I don’t know, Jamie,” he answered honestly. “He just, God, he just makes me so frustrated. Like, anything he says, I just take it straight to heart.”</p><p>James hummed, comforting him.</p><p>“I think it’s because you like him.”</p><p>Sirius snorted in incredulity. “I do not like him.”</p><p>James ruffled Sirius’s hair. “I think you do, Padfoot.”</p><p>Sirius rolled his eyes. “I barely even know him.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah? What’s his favourite colour?”</p><p>“Green,” Sirius answered almost instantly, then cringed.</p><p>“Mhmm. Pets?”</p><p>Sirius groaned, then nodded. “Cat. Calypso.”</p><p>“Thought so. He’s been with us two months now, Pads, and you’ve certainly kissed him a few times.”</p><p>Sirius huffed.</p><p>“I think you like him. Don’t lie to me. I can always see right through you.”</p><p>Sirius turned towards his best friend. “Maybe I like him a little, but so what? I don’t do relationships, ever. And neither does he. So it’s not like I can do anything about it.”</p><p>James chewed the inside of his cheek.</p><p>“I guess. Maybe things will work out?”</p><p>“They never do for me, Jamie,” Sirius shook his head against James’s broad shoulder.</p><p>James played with his hair again. “This time could be different?”</p><p>“It’s never different,” Sirius sighed. “Always the fucking same.”</p><p>James murmured condolences against Sirius’s head. “You coming back out?”</p><p>Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “Am I fuck. I’m fine where I am.”</p><p>“Okay, Padfoot,” James said, sitting up. He’d learnt by now never to push Sirius when he was in a bad mood. It only ever resulted in chaos. “Talk tomorrow, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sirius nodded, lying down. “Night, Jamie.”</p><p>“Nighty-night, Padfoot,” James said, and left, shutting the door softly with a click.</p><p> </p><p>Three hours later, the rest of the flat was asleep, and Sirius found himself staring at his ceiling once again. Bored, and unable to find rest, he flipped his legs over the side of the bed, deciding to make a pot of coffee. He might as well.</p><p>He swung the door open and barrelled straight into a chest. Looking up with surprise, and then dread, he saw the amber eyes of Remus Lupin staring down at him.</p><p><em>Fuck,</em> Sirius thought.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Mutual Secrets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW for mature romantic content and swearing. and yes ive uploaded this 55264494003 times, ive been having formatting errors<br/>venus as a boy by bjork</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <em> A necklaces<br/>He believes in a beauty<br/>He's Venus as a boy<br/>He believes in a beauty and a gentle</em>
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  <em>He believes in a beauty<br/>He's Venus as a boy. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck?” Sirius muttered, hushed, awareness of the time blanketing the irritation surging in his chest. </p><p>“Can we talk?” Remus whispered back, eyes intent.</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Sirius moved to push past him, but Remus stepped in front, grabbing Sirius’s wrists.</p><p>“I’m not the only one in the wrong here,” he hissed, shoving Sirius back lightly. It was almost comical, the murmured argument, so as not to wake Dorcas, Marlene and Mary slumbering on the sofa, and James and Lily together in the room adjacent. It was like a mime-show.</p><p>“I don’t give a shit,” Sirius spat back, voice still low.</p><p>“Of course you don’t.”</p><p>“What about Calypso? Go home to your cat, grandma,” Sirius huffed, still trying to wriggle his wrists free from Remus’s surprising strong grip. </p><p>“Sirius,” Remus pleaded, amber eyes wide and imploring, and Sirius thought he might have actually felt his heart melt, felt the flurry of emotions wash away while those pools of orange stared at him. Sirius sighed, shaking Remus off. <em> Damn you and your stupid face,</em> he thought.</p><p>“Fine,” he mumbled, stepping aside to let Remus in, who looked around with awe.</p><p>“Jesus, Pad- Sirius. Look at this.”</p><p>Sirius shrugged. He’d had the room for a few years now, moving in when he’d just gone 17, with James and Lily. He was used to it, but he supposed it might look like a lot to someone who’d never been in it.</p><p>The walls were plastered with him - with his own art, of course, sketches of all kinds. Bodies, in charcoal smudge; human form in thumbed oil pastel; beautiful miniatures of landscapes, or people, or random objects, colourised in swathes of oil paint and acrylic. The moons, so many of them, as many as he could fit, filled the ceiling, the gaps in between where the stars should be remaining woefully empty. There were posters, so many posters, for Queen, Abba, Mott the Hoople, Fleetwood Mac: any he could get his hands on.</p><p>And the photographs. Some black and white, all film - Sirius had a thing against phone camera photos being printed- James called him snobby for it. Then there was James, leaning out of the window, clutching a shrieking Lily; the three of them when they first moved in, mountains of boxes and bubble wrap that James and Sirius had clothed themselves in, much to Lily’s dismay; Sirius, leaning against Dorcas and Marlene, fag hanging out of his mouth, friend’s laughing; Euphemia and Fleamont, round the dinner table, beaming, Sunday roast covering every inch of the place. And Regulus too, his younger brother, who was travelling right now, as desperate as Sirius to escape their home. They’d spoken again, when Sirius was 20. After the accident. And there he was, pointed, angular face, so much like Sirius’s and so unlike it too, smiling at Saturday afternoon TV, mug of steaming tea in his hand, ruffling Sirius’s hair.</p><p>There was of course shit everywhere, not just on the walls. Bertie the Stratocaster leaned against the wall, amp nearby, pairs of Doc Martens shucked against the skirting. Clothes, as to be expected, were strewn across the floor, shirts and jeans and leather jackets. The tops of surfaces, like the dresser and the bedside table, were so coated in a litany of junk that the wood of the furniture was completely unseen. An old record player and crates of records; boxes of cigarettes and lighters; oil pastels and sketching pencils; paper, sketch pads; notebooks with biro sketches scrawled inside like maps of his mind.</p><p>“It’s very, um. You,” was all Remus said, and Sirius rolled his eyes, flopping onto the bed.</p><p>“What do you want, Remus?” he said quietly, rubbing his eyes.</p><p>“I wanted to say sorry.” Remus sat gingerly on the end of his bed, and Sirius hugged his own knees up, chin resting on them.</p><p>“Mhmm?”</p><p>Sirius wanted to say sorry too, but he was nothing if not stubborn.</p><p>Remus laughed. “Bloody come off it. I’m not the only one who needs to say sorry.”</p><p>“Wow, Remus,” Sirius stretched languidly. “First, you barge into my room in the middle of the night, and now you’re demanding I apologise.”</p><p>Remus shook his head, smirking. “I was a dickhead. But so were you.”</p><p>Sirius tutted.</p><p>“You said some nasty things, Padfoot,” he said. Flinching at the nickname, that thumbed his heart strings when it came upon that beautiful Welsh lilt, Sirius lost his charm, his sarcastic demeanor, and sat back in the huddled position, chewing his lip. Remus was right, of course. He’d been a dick about Remus’s scars, and that was a really low blow. But Jesus. Remus, the way he’d spoken, the viciousness in his voice when he spoke about Fabian. It’d been too much. <em> Remus </em>was too much - he was like a fucking whirlwind. People kept saying 8 weeks, 10 weeks, however long they’d known each other, but it felt like 10 minutes and 10 centuries all at once. </p><p>“I’d just like it if we can get over it. You know? And be friends.”</p><p>The words hit Sirius’s stomach with a dull thud. <em>Friends.</em></p><p>But that was what he wanted, right? He couldn’t have a relationship with Remus, so surely it was better if they were friends? <em> Friends are honest with each other, though, Sirius. Friends knew one another’s problems.</em></p><p>There was no win.</p><p>Sirius sighed, rubbing his eyes. </p><p>“I’m sorry. What I said, about you hiding yourself, that was fucked up. It was.”</p><p>Remus nodded.</p><p>“Yeah. It was.”</p><p>Sirius gnawed at the inside of his cheek, hands trembling. He was so terrified that Remus was going to ask him something, ask him about his nightmares, or Fabian, or his family. What if people talked? What if Dorcas and Marlene had let something slip? Perspiration beaded his forehead. Remus cleared his throat.</p><p>“I’m sorry about what I said too. About Fabian. It’s not my business.”</p><p>“You’re right, it’s not,” Sirius snapped, unable to control himself, hearing the ugly name slip out of Remus’s mouth. The other man’s face slashed with hurt. <em> Fuck. </em> “I’m sorry. Shit, sorry.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Remus replied quietly, looking at his hands. Sirius noticed a blush crawling up his cheeks, and he scratched the back of his neck. <em> What the fuck do I say here? </em></p><p>
  <em>This is uncharted fucking territory. </em>
</p><p>“No, it isn’t,” Sirius rubbed his eyes again, tracking stars across his vision. It hurt, a little bit, like a dull ache in the back of his brain. “I- listen. Fabian’s straight. Painfully so. Me and Fabian, we’re like, not a thing. We never were.”</p><p>Sirius took a shaky breath. He hated this, God, he fucking hated this. There were two warring sides - the one that desperately wanted to push Remus away, keep this fucking mess far away from him, so that he could keep him. And the other part, that wanted to open up, just slightly, just tell him <em>something</em> so that it would make sense - so that he could keep him. He didn’t know which outlet to go to. He just knew what result he wanted.</p><p>“When we were kids, Fabian did something not good to me. And, uh, it caused me a lot of problems. Like, a fuck tonne.”</p><p>Remus’s eyes were wide, and sympathetic. Sirius felt frustrated - he didn’t want <em>pity</em> dammit, he didn’t want Remus to think of him as some poor little bullied child. But he pushed it away, that battery acid burn in his chest. He knew as soon as he lost his cool again they’d be right back to square fucking one.</p><p>“Christ, Pads-” Remus ran a hand through his hair, disrupting the coils of honey-coloured curls. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything. God, I feel like a piece of crap-”</p><p>Sirius sat back, hands wide, heart sputtering. <em> That’s enough. That’s more than enough, now. </em> “I can’t go into it. I don’t want to. But I’m sorry. Sometimes I just lose my <em>shit,</em> you know? Like, like something fucking snaps, like, I can feel it. Like a rubber band.”</p><p>Remus nodded.</p><p>“Yeah. God, yeah. Me too.”</p><p>The pair were quiet.</p><p>“Since we’re being honest,” broke Remus, pulling his astoundingly long legs beneath him. “I don’t like to talk to people about my scars. I don’t even show them, really. You’ve seen them, although that was definitely an accident…”</p><p>Sirius cringed, thinking of how he’d barged in, how scared and self-conscious Remus had looked under the dim and dirty bulb. At least his scars were internal. At least Remus couldn’t just walk in on him and see it.</p><p>Right?</p><p>“But,” he continued, leaning forward. “You’re different. I know it, ‘cause I guess I see a little bit of it in you. I don’t know what I’m fucking on about. Probably not the same form,” he shrugged, “but it’s there. Shit, I’m a mess. I don’t want to talk about it, ever.”</p><p>Sirius was silent.</p><p>“I got these scars in a pretty bad situation,” he said, voice strained, like he was forcing the words out. His face was dark in the low-lit bedroom, his hands pulling at the cuticles. <em>This is hard for him, too,</em> Sirius realised. He saw Remus then, in the warm glow of the lamp shade, the air heavy with midnight, as a person who also had to push their feelings forward, who kept everything, every minutia of sense and emotion under lock and key. Who had to claw at himself, peel away the layers and decide what to show and what to hide. “I won’t ask about yours, if you don’t ask about mine.”</p><p>Letting out a shaky breath, Sirius nodded. He nodded, and Remus smiled. <em> God, the way he smiled. </em> A wave released in Sirius, like a padlock that had chained his chest just suddenly clicked and broke, and relief drenched over him. This could work, right? If they just kept the darker, scarier parts away, it could work. Like curtains. Pull them partial then pull them full. Open them when the sun’s out. </p><p>
  <em>That’s what normal people do, Sirius. Isn’t it?</em>
</p><p>“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah. Mutual secrets, eh?”</p><p>Remus smiled faintly, and stood up. The imprint of his body was still dented into the duvet, and his tall frame was outlined in the lamp-light. Sirius wanted to reach out, blindly, and just hold him.</p><p>But he couldn’t. It was a stupid thought.</p><p>“We’re friends?”</p><p>“We’re friends,” Sirius smiled, and watched Remus go, quietly, the door closing with a soft click behind him. <em> Friends. </em> The word sounded foreign on his tongue. He had them, of course - Prongs and his easy smile; Lily with her blazing red hair; Dorcas, Marlene and Kingsley, with their dancing feet and drunken giggles.</p><p>Friends. Remus was his friend.</p><p>Sirius lay down, staring at the moons. </p><p>
  <em> Friends. Mutual secrets. That’ll work. </em>
</p><p>How wrong he was.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius clocked into work every non-Sunday day for the next two weeks with a smile on his face, a steaming cup in hand, and a determination to be <em> fucking normal. </em></p><p>Leaning back in his chair, he looked around the shop, at the people milling around, chatting about paints and markers and whatever the new stock was. Teens with brightly coloured hair wowed and cooed over the new watercolour palettes, and Sirius smiled inside, knowing that he’d have been that kid if he could. </p><p>A shape stepped up to the counter and he raised his eyes, preparing to ring through another hipster, and saw Remus leaning forward, grin on his pale face, scars looking as beautiful as always in the shop’s lighting.</p><p>“Oh, Remus,” Sirius blinked, surprised, unable to help the smile that crept onto his jaw. “What can I do you for?”</p><p>“Flat white, please,” Remus drawled, in an impressively accurate imitation of Sirius’s clipped Londonian accent. Sirius swatted his arm and Remus fell back, laughing, clutching his corduroy-donned bicep.</p><p>
  <em> Friends. Easy. </em>
</p><p>“Come on Moons. What do you want? Interested in some 200 gsm paper? We just got it in. Or maybe these new Windsor Newton oil based watercolours, would really help this whole farmer chic you’ve got going on. Super complimentary.” Sirius grinned wickedly, raising his cup of coffee to his lips.</p><p>Remus stuck his tongue out. “I’m here to sign up for an art class.”</p><p>Sirius choked on his drink.</p><p>“You? Art class?” he spluttered, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and flipping off a now hysterical Remus. “Don’t come in here to take the piss, Rem, I’ve got <em>customers</em> to help.”</p><p>Remus paused at the new nickname, and Sirius practically kicked himself. He hadn’t meant to, it’d just slipped out and <em>Christ</em>, he was blushing now too, vermillion hue creeping up his cheeks. Remus blinked, and then smiled, and the stiffness just dissolved.</p><p>
  <em> How did he do that? </em>
</p><p>“No, I’m serious,” he pressed. “Can I sign up for one? How much do they cost? How many are there?”</p><p>Sirius just stared back at him.</p><p>“C’mon Padfoot, is this how you treat all your clientele?”</p><p>Sirius chewed his lip, and then shrugged. <em>What the hell.</em></p><p>“They’re in groups,” he explained, reaching underneath the desk to pull out his booking diary. “Five classes for whichever area you choose - one a week for-”</p><p>“Five weeks,” Remus finished, and Sirius glared at him, still unable to help the little smile that went with it.</p><p>“Of course. So, the shop closes at 5, and the class starts at 5:30 and usually lasts till 7 ish.”</p><p>Remus hummed, listening.</p><p>“We do one every day, Monday to Friday.”</p><p>Remus nodded slowly. “So, what are my options?”</p><p>“Monday’s human figure-”</p><p>Remus snorted and Sirius raised his eyebrows at his friend’s maturity - or lack thereof.</p><p>“Tuesday we do pottery, Wednesday we look at abstraction, and how to develop more of a unique approach-”</p><p>“Mhmmm-”</p><p>“Thursday is media experimentation shit, that’s usually for beginners, so you might like that. And Friday is portraiture work.”</p><p>“Okay, well, what day is it today?”</p><p>“Today? It- It’s Friday you tosser,” Sirius shook his head, soft black locs coming loose from behind his ear. Remus smirked, as frustratingly endearing as always.</p><p>“Well,” he said, leaning close and putting his finger down on the paper. “I choose Friday then.”</p><p>Sirius chewed his lip, wishing he could say no, tell him it was full, or cancelled. Seeing Remus more than he needed to would undeniably put a wrench in his plans to stay friends and keep each other’s fragile emotional state at arm’s length.</p><p>This was a very, very bad idea.</p><p>But who was Sirius Black, if not a fan of bad ideas?</p><p>“I’ll book you in. See you tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>Sirius set up for the art class with a focused energy, determined to ignore the tremor in his hands. <em> You’re being stupid, </em> he scolded himself. <em> So what if Remus wants to come to an art class? That’s what friends do. They support friends. </em></p><p>He made sure the supplies were out on each desk - 10 people tonight. He wondered where Remus would sit. <em> Shut up. </em></p><p>He tacked the model’s large photo up on the board at the front of the studio, and sat back on his stool, waiting for people to arrive. His heart felt like a drumbeat, every single twitch sending gasps up his throat. He didn’t want it to- he felt like an idiot. But Remus. </p><p><em>Why is he even coming? </em> Sirius shook his head. <em> It has to be to mess with me, right? </em></p><p>He smiled to himself, half at his own grandiosity and partly at the fact that, as much as it made his jaw shake, Remus was coming tonight. Remus was so effortlessly beautiful, so graceful in everything he did, even though he moved like an awkward teenager, all gangly limbs and 6’3 stupor. Sirius was almost a little glad he was coming tonight- Sirius could finally show him there was an area of life where he wasn’t a purple-rimmed, exhausted, drunken mess that pushed him and kissed him at random moments. <em> Focus. </em></p><p>“What are you smiling at?” the familiar Welsh tone sounded from the door, and Sirius looked up from his bench to see Remus leaning in the doorway. He was wearing some scuffed drain-pipes, as usual, all smartness and posh tones of the style diminished under the signature Lupin wear of holes and bare threads. A holey cable-knit jumper, olive green - <em> typical </em> - and that same corduroy jacket. Sirius would probably put his left nipple in a wood-chipper to wear that corduroy jacket <em>just once.</em></p><p>“Myself,” Sirius replied curtly, nose in the air, earning a chuckle from Remus, who now stepped forward through the empty studio up to Sirius’s work bench at the front.</p><p>“You’ll have to go easy on me,” Remus said, leaning forward on the wooden furniture, long hands splayed out, face closer to Sirius’s. “Can’t say I’m the best student for your craft.”</p><p>Sirius bit his lip to keep from grinning, the mere closeness of the two corralling his heart and tingling his veins. <em> I’m close enough to kiss him, </em> he realised, and then winced imperceptibly. <em> Friend’s don’t kiss one another, Sirius. </em></p><p>Instead he just smiled sweetly, pushing Remus’s nose like a button.</p><p>“We’ll see,” he said to Remus, as he ducked away and batted off Sirius’s hand. As if on queue, like the universe was descending a hand and ushering in a bastion of sense, other people began to file in and take work bench seats, or hover near the door if they were new. Some were regulars to Sirius’s classes, some never been before, but all it took was a wicked Sirius black grin and a waved hand for them to file onto the workbenches. And of course, like he was taunting him, Remus took the one closest to the front, leaning forward or his slender arms, chin resting on his hands. Sirius chewed the inside of his cheek nervously, shaking it off.</p><p>“Alright guys,” he started, moving towards a place where everyone could see him. “Thank you so much for coming tonight, it means I can get takeout from the nice Italian.”	</p><p>People laughed at that, and Sirius stretched, smiling too. He was irresistible, and he knew it. He was in his element here, with people, with art. Screw Remus Lupin. <em>Sirius Black</em> was the one on fire tonight.</p><p>“So, as you know,” he continued, “this is the portraiture workshop, which is one of my favourites to teach. So we have a picture of our beautiful model up here, can you all see that? Yes? Okay, let’s begin.”</p><p>Sirius began to rattle off what mediums that could be used over the five-week workshop, and some of the exercises they were going to start with to expand their hands in anatomy. He loved it, just enjoyed seeing people’s faces so rapt while he talked, completely encapsulated himself, enjoying the hums and throes of the words on his lips.</p><p>This was his haven, his art.</p><p>The class went on, and Sirius couldn’t help but notice Remus watching him, intently, tongue playing at the corner of his mouth, eyebrow ever so slightly raised. He was observing him, like a zoo animal, or something curious. Sirius’s neck prickled. He tried to clear through the brain fog, and just bloody focus. Remus couldn’t ruin his work life too.</p><p>Of course, Remus was good at the class. <em> Why wouldn’t he be? </em> Sirius thought glumly. <em> He’s fucking Adonis. He’s not real. He’s an experiment, I know it. </em></p><p>He wasn’t anywhere near as good as Sirius - there was no quarreling about that. Sirius didn’t always see it, but he was an incredible artist, and the amount of work he’d sold said as much. But it would be a lie to say Remus wasn’t good - Sirius watched with fascination as his long hands deftly marked illustration across the paper, thin and slender fingers smudging through the charcoal, small hand scars on the back and palm flashing alongside his veins. Sirius wanted to draw his hands, and capture them forever.</p><p>
  <em>Bloody hell. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Everybody had left, except Remus Lupin, who was engaged deep in conversation with Sirius. </p><p>Looking back, he couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about. Maybe it would’ve been better to stop right there and then, kick him out onto the street, pack up, and go home.</p><p>But he didn’t.</p><p>“No, seriously,” Remus was laughing, head thrown back, and Sirius was brandishing his arms, in the middle of an elaborate story of a school prank from his and James’s boarding school days. “How did you even manage that?”</p><p>“A lot of patience and grit, Remus. Every egg timer in that bastard building, there must have been over 200. It took them the whole day to sort it out.”</p><p>“Why did the place even have over 200 egg timers?” Remus got out between gasping breaths, and Sirius, delighted to have made him laugh so gleefully, continued.</p><p>“Ask Dumbledore,” he shrugged, mirth playing on his lips. “We may have bought about half of them, though.”</p><p>“What a waste of pounds!” Remus exclaimed, clutching his stomach. “Why would you even spend money on that?”</p><p>“Remus!” Sirius gasped in mock horror, hand to his heart. “Are you possibly suggesting the prankster life is not worth any and all worldly treasures?”</p><p>“Oh, no,” Remus straightened up, adopting a caricature of sincerity. “Heavens, I wasn’t implying that at all.”</p><p>Sirius pointed at a still smirking Remus. “I’ll have your ass for that, Lupin.”</p><p>Remus stuck his tongue out, turning down to clean away his utensils.</p><p>“You’re actually pretty good,” Sirius commented, hopping off his bench and ambling towards Remus. “I was pleasantly surprised.”</p><p>“You wound me, Padfoot,” Remus replied through a ducked head.</p><p>“Git,” Sirius smiled, standing behind Remus now to look at the work on the easel. “No, seriously, it’s pretty good.”</p><p>“Pretty?” Remus turned his head coyly, half smile on his face. “But not excellent?”</p><p>Sirius leaned forward to inspect the work. “Nothing is excellent, but this is nice. I like it.”</p><p>“Mm, glad to hear it,” Remus retorted, picking up some charcoal. “What could I improve, oh wise one?”</p><p>Instinctively, Sirius reached out to grab the hand with charcoal in and raised it to the paper. </p><p>“No, see,” he murmured, moving Remus’s hand to trace the shapes on the card. “Everyone’s features are different, right? So notice how her eyes are more downturned, and that translates with different creases than the first model, yeah?”</p><p>Sirius loved it, loved the way he could finally <em>show</em> Remus his art in a way not everyone understood it, as an extension of his art, each sprawling black line a strummed chord from his soul.</p><p>He crouched a little lower to level with the seated Remus, cheek brushing his hair, still holding his thin wrist. Without even realising what he was doing, he snaked his fingers up to completely cover Remus’s hand, palm grasping the scarred and boney skin, to get a better grip on the charcoal. He moved it gently, the sound of the medium scraping against the dull matte of the artist’s paper the only murmur audible above their gentle breathing.</p><p>Sirius drew some more. “Like this, yeah?”</p><p>Remus tilted his head slightly, honey-coloured curls trickling backwards along Sirius’s cheek, the contact soft, like a delicate hand. Sirius shuddered at the tickle, the tentative movement of Remus’s face against his, against his grazed cheek that sported an uncut stubble and maroon rings underneath his eyes.</p><p>“Yeah,” he whispered, and Sirius felt the breeze of his words across his lips.</p><p>The charcoal dropped to the floor.</p><p>And then he kissed him.</p><p>Every rational spark of his brain told him to stop, to pull back, he was ruining what they’d worked hard for - but his bones, and nerves, and synapses just <em>fired</em> and snapped and <em>yes</em>, finally Remus’s mouth on his again, and for once Remus had done it, he’d started it, he’d initiated it. Sirius surrendered himself fully, and every fibre within him hummed with excitement and satisfaction. How could he have been so stupid as to think he could go about as normal, try live in fucking mundaneity, when Remus’s mouth on his felt like <em>this?</em></p><p>Sirius opened his mouth, parting the way for the other man, and Remus stood up, pulling the two of them together, and Sirius was helpless to do anything but liquify at his touch. It was like every nerve point was fizzing perfectly with the hushed whisper of his name, Remus, Remus, <em>Remus.</em></p><p>The stereo played faintly in the background as hands roamed and mouths hissed, lips bitten and teeth scraping, kiss underlying with the savagery of desire, the abandonment of keeping the two mouths apart for this long. Sirius was alive and his mind was smoke, warm, electric fog from the base of a firework that crackled at the nape of his neck. </p><p>Everything was wrapped into the two of them, bodies pressed together, parts entwined, amalgamated, in a desperate, clutching passion that burned paths through their hearts. </p><p>A wave of longing and satisfaction, miraculously blended, crashed over Sirius and he pulled Remus closer, closer, because he <em>needed</em> him, needed every crook and corner of elbow to slot so perfectly with his own. He heard the sounds of belt buckles, of shirts being cast aside, but he didn’t <em>care.</em> The studio could blow up right now and as long as Remus’s cold body was steadfast on him, the taste of cigarettes and salt whispering along his lips, then Sirius was, for the first time in a long time, completely content.</p><p> </p><p>When it was over, the world came still, everything slowing, as the moment fizzled and sputtered. And then it was gone.</p><p>Remus was already pulling his shirt on and the jacket tugged around his shoulders. He flashed Sirius a smile and turned to leave. Sirius’s heart sank, bottomed out, as the memory of Remus’s body against his, the flush and the heat, the rhythmic beat of two hearts and two mouths faded away. They fit, like a jigsaw, but the edges were ragged, and perfectly so, filling Sirius with a gasping intensity as it sheared along his system. </p><p>But it was finished.</p><p>“Wh-Where are you going?” Sirius stood awkwardly, skin still burning with the feverish grasp of Remus’s hands. There was charcoal on his face, Sirius noticed, clearly from Sirius’s hands, a dark smudge along his cheekbone that was still flushed with the after-effects of ecstasy.</p><p>“Home?” Remus shrugged, tongue playing at the corner of his mouth. “Why?”</p><p>“I-” Sirius started, but his words fell short. What? What <em>could</em> he say? They’d already agreed. No strings. No involvements.</p><p>None of <em>this.</em></p><p>They were supposed to be friends.</p><p>Remus smiled weakly.</p><p>“See you tomorrow?” he said. “At Virgo?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah,” Sirius said absent-mindedly, already retreating back into the folds of his mind. <em>Stupid, stupid, stupid. </em> “Yeah. Uh. Bye.”</p><p>Remus left, and the wind went out of Sirius’s stomach in one fell swoop. He moaned, burying his face in his hands, which felt so alien to the ones that had caressed him not so long ago.</p><p>
  <em>What were you thinking, Sirius? </em>
</p><p>How could he have been so dumb, so reckless? This wasn’t going to go away, now. This would linger. This was the very thing he’d been trying to <em>prevent,</em> to avoid, since that day three months ago when the stupid, gangly barista had taken his order. He wished that he wanted to go back in time, to change it. But the worst part was that his body still thrummed with excitement, with the memory of Remus pressed up against him, of every <em>every single part</em> of Remus, threaded with scars and freckles. The way his skin shone in the studio light, the pink and silver markings that covered his body swam like a map, like a shimmering thread, that snaked over every beautiful inch of his form. Sirius wanted him again, wanted him <em>here,</em> to be able to trace his mouth along them, whisper secrets to the moonlit flesh.</p><p>“You stupid horny bastard,” he muttered to himself, kicking a crate of newspapers, wincing as his toe complained. “Idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>Sirius took the stairs two at a time, as he usually did when nervous energy swirled through his abdomen. He checked the time - 8:30 - and cursed himself. It was his night to cook, and he was fresh off the bike, incredibly late, and smelling like, well, Remus.</p><p>He pushed open the door to their flat, dumping his helmet under the entryway table, and quietly tried to creep to his room, hoping to avoid the wrath of his red-headed roommate.</p><p>No such luck.</p><p>“Sirius Black!” Lily shouted, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, face ablaze. “You’re late. And we’re hungry.”</p><p>Sirius straightened up from the pathetic robber’s crouch. He ran a hand through his hair, wracking his brain for excuses.</p><p><em> Sorry, Lily, I was with our mutual friend who I absolutely swore I would not get with. </em> No, that one wouldn’t work.</p><p>“Sorry, Lils,” he shrugged. “Not that late.”</p><p>Lily snorted, pointing an accusatory finger. “An <em>hour</em> late,” she said. “And on your cooking night as well! You have mouths to feed!”</p><p>“She’s right!” James’s Scouse bellow came from the kitchen, and Sirius shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “Mother Sirius, how could you possibly leave us so parched?”</p><p>“Parched means thirsty, you tosser,” Sirius retorted, and his best friend appeared in the doorway with a block of cheese, that sported several bite marks. “Oh my fuck, stop eating the fucking cheese, Prongs.”</p><p>James shook his head, freckled cheeks hamster-esque, stuffed with a copious amount of cheddar.</p><p>“He’s got his sex look,” he commented dryly to Lily.</p><p>Sirius’s jaw dropped, and he feigned incredulity.</p><p>“Sex look?” he exclaimed. He didn’t actually know what his ‘sex look’ was, but he didn’t have the capacity to deal with more than one thing at once. Remus’s touch still thrived on his skin, the desperate clutches and murmured words against his collarbone and- <em>focus.</em></p><p>Lily nodded at her husband, and turned back to Sirius, arms crossed over her chest.</p><p>“Sex look,” she said, lips pursed, nodding her head towards him. “So, who was it?”</p><p>Sirius held his head high. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”</p><p>James snorted, tossing the cheese onto the counter, much to Sirius’s utter disgust. “Was it someone from your class? That’s <em>really</em> bad for business, Sirius.”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Sirius protested, defences growing weaker by the minute. He’d always been a good actor, but never in front of his two best friends.</p><p>“Definitely someone from the class,” Lily confirmed, posture still hostile. James stood behind her, arms out, leaning against the door frame, a pointed smirk on his face.</p><p>“Was it that chap with the funny glasses, who signed up when I was there?” James asked, and Sirius rolled his eyes. His knees were aching from standing in the hallway, but James and Lily didn’t look ready to give up.</p><p>“Who, Ben?” Sirius snorted. “No. Besides, he’s not in the Friday class. He does ceramics.”</p><p>“Of course he does,” James tutted. “Weird one, Ben.”</p><p>Sirius threw his hands up, exasperated. “I’m going for a shower.”</p><p>He turned to make his way towards his bedroom, but Lily was there in a flash, blocking his way. “<em>Not</em> until you tell us who you were with.”</p><p>“No. One.” Sirius repeated, glaring pointedly at his best friend.</p><p>“Liar,” she stuck her tongue out. “Was it Andy?”</p><p>“Oh, I liked Andy,” James piped up from behind Sirius, who shot him a filthy glare. “Wait, Lils, what if it was Carson?”</p><p>Lily wrinkled her nose. “God, Carson. I never liked him. Might’ve been this Ben, and he's too embarrassed to tell us.”</p><p>James sniggered, coming up beside Lily, now blocking Sirius’s way too. “Definitely Ben. Probably did some erotic clay shit with him.”</p><p>Lily shrieked in laughter, and the two dissolved into giggles. Sirius’s irritation clambered. He was angry at Remus, for being so incredible, and then just fucking <em>leaving</em>, and now Lily and James. Fuck.</p><p>“Piss off now,” he said through gritted teeth.</p><p>Lily snorted, wiping tears from her green eyes. “Did you do clay play?”</p><p>“Clay play!” James howled, and the two erupted into gasps of silent laughter, smacking the wall and one another, barely making a sound.</p><p>“Please,” Lily gasped in between laughs. “Did Sirius get on the little turntable and do a dance?” James clutched his wife in between screams of laughter.</p><p>“Enough now,” Sirius sighed. He just wanted to shower. And go to bed. And shrivel up in a hole. His chest fizzled.</p><p>“They definitely threw wet clay at one another, it was <em>so</em> sensual,” Lily added, and James bent over, clutching his stomach. His wife, delighted, pounded his back.</p><p>“Come on, guys-”</p><p>“Clay sex,” James whispered, voice incredibly high, all air devoid from his lungs, and Lily laughed again. The pair leaned on one another. Sirius clenched his fist.</p><p>“Erotty pottery,” Lily seemed to jump up and down with the excitement of her joke, and James promptly screamed again, cackling maniacally.</p><p>“Stop it,” Sirius hissed. The back of his neck prickled, and a wave of frustration welled in his chest. He blinked back tears.</p><p>“Sirius had clay sex with Ben-”</p><p>“Probably put his dick in a vase-”</p><p>“<em>Enough,”</em>Sirius shouted, feeling his temper snap. HIs face felt hot, hotter than it had when he was with Remus, and his breath came in short huffs. “It wasn’t Ben. It was Remus.”</p><p>Just hearing the two syllables was like a punch to the gut, and he sighed, a low, deep sigh. Lily and James stopped laughing.</p><p>“Oh.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. There</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>hi lovelies. short chapter here, but a necessary one. incoming warnings.<br/>CW without ruining the whole chapter, there are some heavy discussions here about how sirius deals with (/doesn't deal at all) with romantic feelings. pls be kind to yourself. depressive states are alluded to.<br/>song is body by mother mother</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>And take my hands, they'll understand<br/>Take my heart, pull it apart<br/>And take my brain or what remains<br/>And throw it all away<br/>'Cos I've grown tired of this body<br/>A cumbersome and heavy body. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>“Yeah. Shit.”</p><p>Sirius sat down on the sofa with a sigh, hands raking through his hair, wishing the fingertips were someone else’s.</p><p>“You slept with Remus?” The reality of the situation sunk in as the words fell heavy and hard on his ears.</p><p>“Not… technically?” he winced.</p><p>“Not technically,” James repeated, sitting down opposite him. “What does that mean?”</p><p>Sirius rolled his eyes. “We didn’t have… <em>sex</em>,” he said measuredly. “We just didn’t… we did more than-”</p><p>“Okay,” Lily said, placing herself next to her husband. “Okay.”</p><p>They looked so perfect next to one another, thought Sirius, will a dull, sickening twist of his stomach. Her flame red hair, slender body and knitted sweater next to his shock of black curls, athlete’s frame and wire framed glasses. Everything about them seemed to glow. Love just poured between them, like a shimmering light that reached out and connected one another. Even now, freckled faces twisted in concern, eyes wide and imploring, they just looked so fucking <em>perfect</em> together. One part of Sirius hated it, hated that they could have something so pure and wonderful, and the other hated himself for despising it. And deep down, a little bit of him grieved for what he had lost and would continue to lose: love like theirs. He couldn’t have it. Ever. He was damaged goods. He was a fucking liability. And yet again he thought of Remus, the way the stiffness of his bones had suddenly melted when the other man held him, scarred skin wrapped around inked, honeyed curls and ebony tresses meshing together like a woven blanket as they held one another through the navigation of passion. And he hated himself, too, for letting his heart open up, for being so <em>stupid</em>, so stupid to think there was ever going to be a world in which he could have someone, especially someone like that, and they could have him. </p><p>He chewed his lip.</p><p>“I thought you liked him?” James asked carefully.</p><p>“I <em>do</em>,” Sirius moaned, sinking low on the seat and flinging an arm over his eyes petulantly. “That’s the problem.”</p><p>Lily hummed. “Why?”</p><p>Sirius sat up with a raised eyebrow.</p><p>“You know why.”</p><p>James pushed his glasses onto his head and rubbed a hand over his face.</p><p>“Pads,” he began, and Sirius cringed, knowing the conversation had turned serious. “Maybe… Maybe it might be good, or…”</p><p>“Healthy,” Lily supplemented.</p><p>“Yeah. Healthy. Maybe it might be healthy to actually <em>try</em> this time?”</p><p>Sirius snorted, crossing his tattooed forearms over his chest. He raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“What are you implying?”</p><p>“It’s just that, you, well,” James searched for words, face scrunched in thought. He was clearly treading very lightly, and Sirius resented it.</p><p>“Come on Potty.”</p><p>“You always give up before anything’s even happened. You just assume-”</p><p>“I foresee-”</p><p>“-you assume that things are going to go to shit. That everything’s going to collapse. And you never <em>try.</em> You never give yourself the chance, and you never give anyone else one.”</p><p>Sirius’s head hurt, and he could still smell Remus on him, smell the elusive mystery of him, his indifference, his casualness, his ambiguity. Everything faded into mist, and Sirius was blind, clawing out, desperate to know Remus, desperate to live within his scars.</p><p>“James,” he started, rubbing his eyes. The dull throb in his head began to sharpen.</p><p>“Sirius,” Lily said gently. “We love you. But we can’t keep letting you do stuff like this to yourself.”</p><p>Sirius groaned, partly in discomfort and partly at the wincing of his pulsing temple.</p><p>“You’re allowed to have good things,” she affirmed, and Sirius scoffed.</p><p>“Enough of this lovey-dovey therapy shit,” he barked out a strained laugh, flinching as the sound ricocheted off his stinging skull. “Shall we order in? My treat.”</p><p>“Padfoot,” James shook his head, exasperated. “Come on now, listen to us.”</p><p>Sirius massaged the sides of his head. God, it fucking hurt. His stomach turned, and his nerves twitched, fired by the pain in his mind as well as the irritation of the subject. He didn’t <em>want</em> to talk about his feelings, his ‘self-destructive habits’ or whatever family friendly crap James and Lily were trying to pull on him. He just wanted a drink, a painkiller for his head, and a shower, to wash the smell and feel of Remus down the drain, see the beauty slip into the London plumbing and leave forever, reducing Sirius down to just his bare bones and flesh. He felt <em>alive</em> with him still, like Remus lived on him, and it was taking everything in his power not to run to him, to kiss that cold mouth and drink in the sea-salt and cigarettes. Remus made him feel, and he detested it. He wanted his damn peace and quiet back.</p><p>“We understand-”</p><p>“No you don’t!” Sirius had barely registered the familiar crack of his temper breaking before he was on his feet, furious and shaking. His head throbbed, sending stars across his vision. His hands hurt from the cold outside. “You don’t fucking get it, James.”</p><p>James. Not Jamie, or Prongs, or Potty. James.</p><p>“You won’t, and you never will, okay?”</p><p>James flinched and Sirius’s stomach clenched with guilt, but the night, Remus, the thrill and feel of him and then the aching space he’d left charged Sirius’s synapses and he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling forth. “It <em>will</em> go to shit, because it always does.”</p><p>James didn’t say anything, and Lily just looked sad, which only fueled the fire crackling away in Sirius’s gut. He didn’t need pity.</p><p>“How do you think it would possibly work out? Hmm?”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>“Oh yes, I get a nice new shiny boyfriend, who likes me very much. Right up until I fucking wake up in the night, <em>screaming</em> bloody murder.”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>“What’s he going to think of me then?” Sirius rasped, voice cracking. “What’s he going to say to other people? What will he think when his <em>boyfriend</em>,” he spat the word, “is thrashing around like a fucking feral animal? Crying and hyperventilating over pathetic little <em>dreams?</em>”</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>“And even if he’s stupid enough to stick around, what’s he going to think when I go back <em>there?”</em> Sirius released a small sob in a rushing gasp. “He’ll fucking <em>leave me</em> when I’m there. And shit, I wouldn’t blame him. I’d leave too.”</p><p>“He might not-”</p><p>“<em>How would you know?</em>” Sirius shouted, eyes wild. “Everyone does. Everyone <em>should.</em> Christ, everyone should get out while they fucking can.”</p><p>He rubbed his eyes furiously, determined to hide the tears that had begun to prick his eyes. He hated it all, so much. He wished he could go back to months ago, when the biggest Remus problem was resisting his charms so he could keep getting coffee. And now, here he stood, yelling at his two best friends, because he was afraid, so viscerally afraid, of the feelings Remus had surfaced. And the way there was no resolution, and no way out. He would just live with them until they went away.</p><p>When will they go away?</p><p> He hated Remus, and the feelings he’d sparked, and the way that he <em>still</em> wouldn’t make himself human to Sirius. Sirius yearned to <em>know</em> him, and Remus didn’t care about him, about any of it. About anything.</p><p><em>Why should he?</em> Sirius thought, choking out a bitter laugh. <em> He doesn’t owe me shit. None of these people do. </em></p><p>“I stayed,” James murmured very quietly.</p><p>“What?” Sirius turned to look at him, hand still running though his hair.</p><p>“You said everyone leaves, when you go back there. But I stayed, didn’t I?”</p><p>Sirius’s jaw trembled.</p><p>“Six months. Six months and I never left your side, Sirius. Because I love you. Me and Lily, we love you. And we’re sick of seeing you do this to yourself.”</p><p>Sirius breathed heavily, adrenaline still fizzling through his veins.</p><p>“I didn’t leave,” James repeated, looking up at his best friend.</p><p>Sirius was silent for a moment, and then he spoke, blue eyes dark.</p><p>“Maybe you should’ve.”</p><p>And with that, he turned on his heel, picking his helmet back up from the doorway, and slammed the flat door behind him, not stopping till he was out on the street and lifting onto his bike, praying the wind would take his troubles for him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Too Late</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: whew! warning for violence, blood, bruises subtle homophobia, swearing, mature romantic content and legal drug use (nicotine and alcohol)<br/>song is you really got me by the kinks</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Yeah, you really got me goin'<br/>
You got me so I don't know what I'm doin'<br/>
Yeah, you really got me now<br/>
You got me so I can't sleep at night.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You really got me. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sirius sat in his room, canvas propped up against the wall, music playing through his headphones. He was sprawled on the floor, loose fabric pooled underneath him to protect the carpet from the dire danger of oil paint, pallette resting carefully nearby and battered paintbrush in hands. He wasn’t really sure what he was painting, but his body had felt alive with nervous energy since last night, and the thick swathes of pigment on the rough matte of the stretched canvas seemed to be the only thing that could calm his mind. </p><p>That and cigarettes.</p><p>A noise from outside his door broke him out of his peaceful reverie, and he dropped the paintbrush in surprise as it swung open. In typical Sirius Black luck, it missed the laid tarp and landed straight onto the carpet, splatter of crimson paint nestling in the fluffy grey carpet. Sirius swore loudly in French, a permanent trace of his upper-class childhood, and picked up the brush, scrubbing at the paint with his hands and only succeeding in making the stain a muddy colour. </p><p>“What do you want?” he snapped to Remus, annoyed at the paint and still bubbling with bitterness over Remus’s departure last night.</p><p>“You’ve got paint on your nose,” Remus pointed out. “And your cheek. It’s cute.”</p><p>Sirius sniffed, irritated at Remus’s blasé. How could he be so nonchalant, and joking, like yesterday hadn’t happened? Carelessly pointing out Sirius’s <em>cuteness</em>- cute, honestly? Sirius Black, cute? What a ridiculous notion. - as if the beauty that poured forth between their mouths last night wasn’t still fizzling and crackling through his veins?</p><p><em>Maybe it isn’t for him,</em> Sirius thought dully, not sure what voice was his and what was the one that lived in the back of his mind. <em> Maybe you were just a body. The way you were supposed to be. No strings, and yet he’s got you like a fucking puppet. </em></p><p>Sirius rubbed his nose, and Remus laughed. “It’s still there. Here, let me.”</p><p>He walked over to where Sirius was, deftly footed as always, perching on the end of his bed, taking Sirius’s chin in his hands and tilting his angular face towards him. A look of concentration came over his beautiful face, and Sirius’s heart thumped weakly, head dizzy. Remus pulled his holey sweater sleeve up over his hand and began to rub gently at Sirius’s face, and Sirius thought he may as well have just passed out as a wave of comfort and affection swept crookedly over him. The way Remus’s amber eyes rapidly moved, searching Sirius’s face, canines subconsciously playing at his pink lower lip, nose slightly scrunched. Sirius wanted to reach up and gently touch his lips to each part, each feature; his cool eyelids and long eyelashes; even cooler mouth and slightly crooked teeth; slim nose and hollow cheekbones; scarred flesh passing the diameter of his face.</p><p>“There,” Remus said softly, not moving his hand from Sirius’s chin. “All gone.” He smiled.</p><p>Sirius could look at him forever, stare at the cut and angular carve of his features, but he knew it wouldn’t be wise.</p><p>Right?</p><p>“What are you doing here, Remus?” was all he could muster, so quiet it might have been a whisper. He felt Remus’s cold hand leave his chin, but the imprint of where it had been burned feverishly with a lonely longing for his skin back on his.</p><p>Remus shrugged. “Saturday. It’s getting late. I wanted to check if you were coming.”</p><p>Sirius blinked. “Wh-what time is it? I started painting at 3.”</p><p>“It’s seven,” Remus replied, stretching. Foolishly, Sirius realised he was already in clothes for Virgo - and there Sirius sat, in a white, paint-smeared vest and crappy pyjama bottoms.</p><p>“Oh, shit!” he sat up, running a hand through his hair and wincing as it hit a knot. “Shit, I’d better get ready!”</p><p>Remus laughed, falling back onto Sirius’s bed. “There’s my Padfoot.”</p><p>Sirius flipped him the V, moving to lock his ensuite door. “Be out there in a bit.”</p><p>But the words rang in his mind as he stood under the steaming water, rubbing shampoo through his hair and blinking through the droplets on his eyelashes.</p><p><em>My Padfoot. </em> </p><p> </p><p>Sirius stepped out of the ensuite in a cloud of steam, hair still dripping onto the floor, towel slung around his waist, to find Remus Lupin reading on his bed.</p><p>“Remus!” he gawked, suddenly self-conscious of his relatively bare body, his picture book tattoos hidden under wet skin, hair clinging low to his head and neck. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, shaking out his hair. Remus had a book in his hands, the one from Sirius’s bedside table, and was leaning languidly against a mound of cushions he’d made for himself.</p><p>“Making yourself at home?” Sirius grinned, unable to help himself.</p><p>Remus smiled sheepishly, slowly sitting up fully. His eyes clung to Sirius, to the shape of his body, the pale lines and curvature, grazing down, a lazy, drawling observation, and Sirius shuddered. Eventually, Remus looked back up at his eyes.</p><p>He held the book up.</p><p>“Cute,” he said, and Sirius’s face grew red. Remus held a copy of <em>Odysseus</em> that Sirius had bought after Remus had mentioned his cat Calypso. Problem was, Sirius was lazy, and busy with his art, and the poor novel had been gathering dust on his shelf. Last night, after, well, Remus, he’d finally opened it and begun to read. He hadn’t realised he’d left it on the bedside table. He shrugged.</p><p>“Expanding my palate,” he offered weakly.</p><p>“Excellent choice,” Remus nodded, and then stood. “I’ll give you some privacy, sorry.”</p><p>Sirius grinned despite himself, relishing in seeing the other man ever so slightly flustered.</p><p>“Looks like you were set.”</p><p>Remus laughed at that, and Sirius’s heart warmed at the thought of making him laugh, and then chilled, because those kinds of feelings only ever led to attachment.</p><p>“I was going to leave as soon as you got in the shower, but I noticed the book, and I… uh, I got absorbed,” he ruffled his curls. “Sorry.”</p><p>“I don’t mind,” Sirius smiled, and moved over to his drawers to pull clothes out. Remus moved to the door and slipped out quietly. When he was far enough away, Sirius shut the door and let out a deep sigh. Just Remus being that close had raised all the hairs on his neck, in a way he <em>loved</em>, and he hated himself for it.</p><p><em>Oh my god,</em> he thought, as he leaned his wet head against the back of the door. <em> I fancy Remus Lupin. </em></p><p> </p><p>Virgo was alive, thrumming and pounding, like a heaving set of lungs that breathed life through Sirius. He itched for a dance, a shot, a cigarette, and Remus, but instead he found himself penned in the booth, surrounded by his friends, and across from Fabian Prewett. The last person he wanted to see.</p><p>All the warm positive flush of Remus being there, despite the anxiety and anger that accompanied it, was drowned out by the sight of the stupid, smiling ginger twin, face a smatter of freckles and grin as wicked as could be. Sirius silently seethed, running his finger on the rim of his glass, chewing the inside of his cheek. His stomach was a writhing, sickening mess, and the back of his neck prickled.</p><p>“If looks could kill,” Remus murmured into his ear, and Sirius turned, surprised, staring right into those beautiful glows of amber. Despite himself, a smile quirked up in the corner of his mouth at seeing Remus, just for a moment.</p><p>
  <em>Get a grip. You do not fancy Remus Lupin. </em>
</p><p>Remus wiggled his eyebrows, taking a swig from his beer bottle, and Sirius shook his head, a rueful smile curling his mouth. He turned back to the table.</p><p>“All I’m saying, Pete, is that Edward cared a lot more for Bella than Jacob ever did!” James was gesticulating, arms wide, Lily and Dorcas ducking out of the way of his broad arms. James, unheeding the tuts, continued, elaborate and animated. “Jacob never put her first!”</p><p>Peter snorted, shaking his head, shouting slightly over the din of the sounds in the club. “Then why did he leave her and bugger off somewhere else in the country?! Jacob helped her out of that depression!”</p><p>Lily was laughing, and Dorcas and Marlene were shaking their heads disdainfully, smiling under their bottles.</p><p>“Jacob <em>manipulated</em> her out of that depression,” James scoffed, slamming down his empty beer bottle. “Edward <em>loved</em> her.”</p><p>“I still haven’t watched it,” Kingsley offered, leaning forward, and Sirius laughed, sipping his rum and coke.</p><p>Fabian leaned in too, straining to be heard over the music. “I’m Team Jacob too, Pete.”</p><p>James, thunderous look crossing his usually sweet features, raised his eyebrows. “Hmph. Of course you are.”</p><p>Fabian then launched into a monologue about Jacob, and Sirius, watching the exchange with helpless nervousness, almost jumped when he felt a hand on his knee. He craned his neck, ever so slightly. Remus’s tongue played in the corner of his mouth.</p><p>Sirius turned back to the conversation, unable to hide his grin. He felt Remus’s long, thin fingers circle over the bone of his knee, and he shuddered slightly, desperately trying to keep a straight face. Remus shifted his hand, moving it upwards, now splayed on his thigh, and tapped the jean-clad skin ever so gently. Sirius had tried to look effortlessly cool tonight, to make Remus flustered, and had opted for black drainpipes, a silk striped skirt, wedge-heel boots and his signature leather jacket: but right now he wished he was naked. Each small tap of Remus’s slender finger sent electric shivers across Sirius’s chest and abdomen. Remus’s palm inched dangerously high, and Sirius choked on his drink.</p><p>James turned, with a look of concern, and Sirius abruptly stood up, Remus’s hand falling away.</p><p>“I’m going for a cig, don’t wait up,” he announced to the table, praying the dark lights of the club hid the high blush on his cheeks. “Er, Remus? Want to come?”</p><p>Remus smiled knowingly. “Sure. Uh huh.” He stood up too, fishing around in his jacket pocket for his tobacco pouch. Pushing his leather jacket aside, onto the booth, Sirius squeezed out of the clutches of his seated friends, Remus on his heels. The walk from their table in the back to the smoking area seemed excruciatingly long, and when they were a safe distance away from the group, Sirius felt Remus’s hand on the small of his back. Without his jacket, the cold shape of Remus against his lower backbone sent Sirius’s chest into overdrive, and he could’ve sworn he was wheezing as they shouldered through the crowd and finally stepped out into the cold midnight air of the smoking area.</p><p>Sirius barely had time to adjust to the change in environment before Remus spun him around and met his mouth in a feverish, bruising kiss, so intent and focused Sirius gasped with the force of it, stumbling backwards through the empty smoking area while Remus leaned in low, attached to him. Even with his wedge-heeled boots, Sirius stood shorter than Remus, and he lifted his arms up and draped them around his neck. Remus pushed him against the wall, the cold concrete sharp on Sirius’s thinly veiled back. But he didn’t mind, didn’t <em>care</em> because once again, Remus’s lips were glued to his. Remus cupped Sirius’s jaw, pressing harder, and Sirius relished in the confusing blend of gentle tenderness and savage ferocity with which Remus kissed him. Anger surged up in Sirius, at not only himself for going so weak at the knees, but at Remus, for just walking off last night. He pushed back, hard, determined to maintain at least some semblance of control, and he felt Remus grin against his mouth, biting Sirius’s lower lip. <em>Shit.</em> Remus pulled away first, face sheened with sweat, eyes wide and hungry, and Sirius grinned, winking, delighted at how he made Remus so flustered.</p><p><em>I did that,</em> he thought smugly as Remus lowered back onto Sirius, fastening his mouth to his jaw. Sirius tilted his head up. <em>I don’t fancy Remus Lupin. But good god, he’s a good kisser. </em></p><p>Remus hummed against Sirius’s jawbone, the vibration of sound tickling Sirius’s nerves, and he pulled Remus closer, determined to feel the height of the other man’s passion.</p><p>“Well, isn’t this cute?” a sardonic voice drawled, and the two men broke apart, still gasping for breath, both charged with the almost angry intensity of their embrace. Fabian Prewett stood idly with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. Sirius felt discomfort bubble up in his chest, and the coldness of the night air suddenly dawned on him. His skin crawled at the thought that Fabian had seen him with Remus. He wanted to keep the good things good, untainted.</p><p>“What do you want, Fabian?” he muttered, running a hand through his hair again, shaking it out. He’d had Lily cut it into a sort of shaggy mullet, the wisps of it now dangling in his face and stuck to his temples with sweat.</p><p>Fabian held up his cigarette with a sneer. “What do you think?”</p><p>Sirius rolled his eyes, tugging his shirt back to perfectness, smoothing out the rumples Remus had left. <em>Remus.</em> He’d been surprisingly quiet, and Sirius turned to see the other man with an eyebrow raised in a disdainful, almost <em>disgusted</em> look.</p><p>Fabian took a drag of his cigarette, face almost daring Remus to say something. Sirius sighed, and moved to go back inside. The moment was hopelessly over, and now he just wanted to get shitfaced.</p><p>“Good choice on the latest squeeze, Sirius,” Fabian called dryly, perpetually determined to have the last word, and Sirius craned his neck with a sniff, glancing back at the ginger man.</p><p>“Piss of, Fabian,” he replied curtly. Conflict rose up inside him: should he stay outside, deal with Fabian, and drag Remus in, or leave Remus to fend for himself? Would serve him right for leaving yesterday, and Remus didn’t seem keen on moving from where he was currently stood, skinny arms folded in front of his chest and a filthy look on his face. Sirius groaned internally, turning around to lean against the doorframe, taking up post, waiting for the assault to come.</p><p>“Bit pretty for you, no? Doesn’t really seem like your type.” Fabian said, peering at Remus as if he was a zoo animal. “Then, I suppose, <em>you’d</em> always go for anything, wouldn’t you, Sirius?”</p><p>The blow stung, hitting Sirius in the chest, but he shook it off, feigning indifference. It wasn’t himself he needed to worry about, though, unaware that, as he shifted uncomfortably, Remus’s temple twitched and his hand trembled.</p><p>“Maybe. But then again, you’ve always been a nosy bastard, haven’t you, Fabian?”</p><p>Fabian rolled his eyes, blowing smoke in Sirius’s general direction, who desperately tried to maintain an air of unbotheredness, despite how much his stomach was gnawing and the back of his neck prickled.</p><p>“Is that really how you should speak to your old friend, Sirius?” Fabian taunted, and Remus fought the urge to shove him. “Bratty since day one, I suppose.”</p><p>“I think that’s enough,” Remus said darkly, and Sirius looked up in surprise, having almost forgotten he was there.</p><p>Fabian laughed jarringly, throwing his head back. “I see you’ve got him acting guard dog, Sirius.”</p><p>Fury bubbled up in Sirius’s core, and he spat his next words. “I thought I told you to piss off, Fabian.”</p><p>Fabian grinned, holding up his half smoked fag. “I haven’t finished.”</p><p>“Finish it somewhere else,” Sirius shrugged. </p><p>“I like it here,” Fabian smiled sweetly. “So, Remus,” he said, turning back to the taller man. “I assume you’re acting like a dick because of what Sirius has said about me. He’s always been a bit of a drama queen, you know.”</p><p>Sirius glowered at the back of his head.</p><p>“I always thought it was the gay thing,” Fabian started, but Remus cut him off with a growl.</p><p>“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m queer too. So watch it.” Remus warned.</p><p>“Oh, no!” Fabian gushed, voice sickly sweet, a mocking caricature of respect. “That’s what I’d <em>thought</em> but I realise how silly that was. Turns out Sirius is just fucking dramatic.”</p><p>Sirius rubbed his eyes, not caring that the eyeliner came away on his hands. He felt queasy. As much as he hated to admit it, he was scared Fabian’s poisonous little slights were going to change Remus’s perception of him, change the way their mouths slotted together. He’d tried to keep the scarier parts away, and he couldn’t help but worry that Fabian would drag them out.</p><p>“I’m sure he’d told you I’m the spawn of Satan,” Fabian continued, purposefully ignoring the way both Remus and Sirius bristled. </p><p>“He’s told me enough,” Remus replied shortly.</p><p>Fabian tugged on the cigarette again, speaking through the smoke. </p><p>“Shame. Sirius Black has always been a fucking liar.”</p><p>Remus opened his mouth, but Sirius was there first, anger fizzing in his aura and popping around him like a cut fuse.</p><p>“Give it a fucking rest,” he hissed.</p><p>Fabian, ignoring the dark haired boy, turned back to Remus. “Bit of a charity case here, Sirius.”</p><p>Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but Remus beat him to it <em>this</em> time.</p><p>“Excuse me?” Remus said, stepping forward.</p><p>“Oh, no, not like that-” Fabian held his free arm out. “I just meant that Sirius likes to play fixer-upper, you see. Has since we were kids. And you definitely seem like one he’d go for.” Fabian lazily raked his eyes up and down Remus, and Sirius’s jaw trembled.</p><p>“<em>Enough,</em>” he seethed.</p><p>Fabian waved Sirius off. “Definitely a little project for you, isn’t he, Siri? At least, I’d assume so, what with all those scars-”</p><p>Sirius started forward, arm already pulled back, but Remus was quicker, throwing himself at a startled Fabian, who dropped the still-lit cigarette, which landed on Sirius’s forearm. The burning contact with his bare skin made Sirius cry out, and Remus stopped, letting go of Fabian’s shirt, wildly looking around to locate Sirius even in his tipsy rage. Seeing Sirius rubbing his arm, his eyes went wide with concern.</p><p>“Sirius, are you-” he began, but was cut off when a resounding <em>crack</em> echoed through the smoking courtyard, as Fabian, cowardly as ever, took his chances with a distracted Remus. Remus’s head snapped back, lip split, but when he whirled back on Fabian, all that could really be seen across his face was a heated, feverish sort of anger. He fisted the front of Fabian’s shirt, surprisingly strong despite his slender frame, and punched Fabian in the jaw, square. And then another, to the nose. Fabian stumbled backwards, and Remus smiled, blood trickling from the cut in his lip. </p><p>“Gosh, I thought I must be bad in a fight,” he said mockingly. “Always thought it was the queer thing.”</p><p>Fabian straightened up, clenching his fist, determined to get a shot back, but Remus lunged forward, shoving him square in the chest. Fabian, undeterred, face bright red, whether from blood, anger, or embarrassment, swung wildly at Remus, connecting with his shoulder. Sirius, dumbfounded in shock, Fabian’s pure vitriol still echoing in his mind, could only stand, watching, the two became locked in combat with one another. Remus hissed in pain, clutching his shoulder, but swung again, this time slamming Fabian in the side of the head, who groaned dizzily. The two scuffled, and Sirius, unwaveringly glued to the spot, dimly registered their friends pouring out of the door and getting involved, pulling the two men apart. James stood facing Remus, arm stretched out over the slender man’s chest. Remus struggled against him, eyes wide, knuckles covered in blood from where he’d scraped them on Fabian’s face. Kingsley had the back of Fabian’s shirt, a shocked look on his face.</p><p>“Woah, leave it, Remus, leave it,” James was saying, but Remus turned to him with a look, eyebrows raised and teeth bared, and tried to shrug the rugby player off, face frustrated as he squirmed against James’s burly grip.</p><p>“Let me go, Prongs,” he hissed.</p><p>“What the fuck is wrong with you two?!” shouted Dorcas, stood by Marlene in the entryway. Lily was rummaging around in her bag for something, panic-stricken, James and Gideon still holding a struggling Remus and Kingsley still grappling an equally struggling Fabian. The air crackled and hummed, alive with static energy.</p><p>“You think I’m just going to let a bit of homophobia and pathetic bullying slide, Fabian?” Remus shouted across the people filled divide.</p><p>“Homophobia?” Fabian scoffed.</p><p>“A bit of <em>what?</em>” James’s mouth swung open, and he released Remus, who, delighted by his sudden freedom, being far stronger than Gideon anyway, launched himself again at Fabian and tugged him out of Kingsley’s now considerably lax grip. But Remus wasn’t the only one with fire in his veins, and James shouldered past him, grabbing Fabian by the lapels of his shirt and shoving him up against the wall.</p><p>“James!” Lily shrieked, moving forward, and Sirius was faintly aware of Dorcas and Marlene stepping out in front of her, pushing her gently backwards, trying to keep her away from the roaring violence.</p><p>James lifted a startled Fabian up, hands still fisted in the cotton of the twin’s blood-spattered shirt. Kingsley was calling James’s name, stepping forward. Fabian’s eyes were wide and afraid, legs dangling in the air as he desperately clawed at James’s hands. Gideon was shouting, and Remus was shouting back, flinging an arm in front of him and telling him to ‘<em>stay the fuck back.’</em></p><p>“I swear to fucking God,” James hissed, leaning close to Fabian, hazel eyes dark with rage. “That’s the last fucking time you speak to Sirius like that.”</p><p>Upon hearing his name, his dizzy hypnosis cracked, and Sirius, fully digesting the situation for the first time, began to move towards the crowd of people. Dorcas and Marlene clutching a shouting Lily; Remus still yelling furiously at an equally vehement Gideon, Kingsley pleading with James; and Fabian crushed against the wall.</p><p>“James,” he called faintly, voice dimmed under the shouts and yells.</p><p>“Understand?” James spat. “I said, <em>understand?</em>”</p><p>“James!” Sirius shouted, louder, but his best friend ignored him.</p><p>“Say capiche,” James growled through gritted teeth, pushing Fabian, who cried out at the repeated contact with concrete.</p><p>“Jamie, stop!” Sirius yelled, grabbing his roommate’s shoulder. “Stop it. He’s not worth it, okay? Not fucking worth it.”</p><p>Whether it was Sirius’s voice, or the cacophony of yells, or Fabian’s struggling breaths, James reluctantly stepped back, releasing the other man, who slid downward, gasping. </p><p>“You’re crazy, Potter,” Gideon spat, shouldering past a glowering James and picking his brother up off the floor. “Fucking mental.”</p><p>James looked Gideon up and down with a sneer. “And you two are an embarrassment. That’s the last time you come out with us.” He looked down, disgusted, at Fabian, who’s brother was tugging him back up. “Five fucking years late.”</p><p>Sirius wanted to cry, or scream, or throw up. One minute he’d been kissing Remus, body flush against his, and now <em>this.</em> God, what must Remus be thinking?</p><p>Gideon tugged his brother away, towards the courtyard exit.</p><p>Fabian, face crooked and bruised, still flashed a wicked grin at Remus.</p><p>“Drama queen Sirius,” he laughed. “I told you.”</p><p>With a roar Remus moved in a blur, hauling one twin off the other and sinking his fist into Fabian’s face once again, whose skin was now swollen and bloody. Whistles and yells sounded, and huge bodies, security guards, were shouting and prising Remus off of Fabian. Remus kicked and struggled against them, but a larger one clamped his huge arms around Remus. The night air was heavy and hot, filled with the yells and spits and hisses of the fight, sweet air of Virgo souring and turning muddy under the layer of hatred that dripped down the sides of Sirius’s head alongside the beads of sweat. Fabian was dragged off, yelling insults, by a shouting Gideon, and the guards pushed Remus back.</p><p>“Enough! You have ten minutes to get out before we call the fucking police!” One of them shouted at a heaving Remus, who defiantly stood his ground. Sirius really, <em>really</em> wanted to be sick. His head was thumping, heart in the same synchronised beat that ricocheted with a stinging pain throughout his temples. But he moved forward anyway, sluggishly, weighted down by heavy whiskey and even heavier sadness, tongue like lead in his mouth. He clutched Remus’s shoulder.</p><p>“Moony,” he pleaded, tugging the other man. “Come on, let’s go. I can get you cleaned up.”</p><p>Remus didn’t reply, still locked in a furious face-off with the security guard.</p><p>“Remu,” he said in his ear, and that seemed to do it. Remus relaxed, every so slightly, against Sirius’s body behind him, still trembling with rage but eyes softening down. He let Sirius tug him back through the club and out into the night air on the opposite way to Fabian and Gideon. Lily was hailing a cab, Dorcas was calming down a twitchy James, and Marlene was lighting everyone cigarettes, in a desperate attempt to reclaim consciousness within the group. Sirius felt numb and dizzy as he accepted a lit fag from his friend, tugging his leather jacket round his now shivering body. He was so fucking hot and cold at the same time, polarised sensations skittering across every bare inch of skin, heart still whirring sickeningly, nausea twisting his gut.</p><p>
  <em>What the fuck just happened?</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Moonlit Flesh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>- sorry for the shorter nature of this chapter. i want to keep updating as quick as poss! and this felt like a nice one to give on its own. bit heavy in some areas though, so PLS READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS!<br/>CW for homophobia, being outed, allusions to domestic abuse, vblood, beginnings of an anxiety attack, and quite a lot of mention of remus's scars (not in a bad light)<br/>song is good old fashioned lover boy by queen - aka the wolfstar anthem</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things<br/>
We can do the tango just for two<br/>
I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings<br/>
Be your Valentino just for you<br/>
Ooh, love, ooh, loverboy<br/>
What're you doin' tonight, hey, boy?<br/>
...<br/>
I'd like for you and I to go romancing<br/>
Say the word, your wish is my command<br/>
Ooh, love, ooh, loverboy<br/>
What're you doin' tonight, hey, boy? </em>
</p><p>The flat felt cold when the six of them re-entered. Cold, and bare, and suddenly very claustrophobic. Dorcas and Marlene had taken them home, insisting they stayed. The pizza boxes felt heavy.</p><p>
  <em>What the fuck just happened?</em>
</p><p>Sirius grabbed Remus’s slender wrist, making a beeline for the main bathroom. Remus was silent, and it was deafening. Sirius pushed open the door amid the noises of Dorcas setting up pizza and Lily getting a wash cloth for James.</p><p>Sirius shut the door, and the rest of the apartment, all jostled limbs and clipped voices fading away to nothing as he looked at the man in front of him. Remus’s lip was turning an ugly shade of purple where Fabian’s ring had caught it, the split in it still oozing blood. Sirius sighed, a low, long sigh, and felt the night fall away from him upon his breath, panic and fear and resentment washing away and dissipating into the cold, harshly-lit bathroom. Remus just stared back at him.</p><p>“Come on,” Sirius said softly, making Remus sit on the edge of the bath. He picked up a face cloth out of the wicker basket Lily had insisted on, feeling decidedly less warm than the ‘homely’ vibe she’d championed it for.</p><p>Remus was still quiet, and Sirius just knelt in front of him, cloth now damp, and began to gently wipe at his knuckles, hair falling into his eyes. He didn’t know what to say: it was as if the words careened on the edge of his tongue but weren’t able to fall forth.</p><p>Sirius subconsciously rubbed where Fabian’s cigarette had fallen on his arm, mind’s eye still full of Remus pulling away, desperately searching for him through the tide of emotions.</p><p>
  <em>’Sirius, are you alr-</em>
</p><p>He barely even noticed when he felt cold hands grasp his forearm. Remus traced the small burn, face crumpled. Sirius shivered when his long fingers caressed over the mottled skin. It was only a small burn, nothing serious, and Sirius had barely felt it. But when Remus dragged his icy fingertips along it, Sirius could’ve sworn it burned more than the lit butt falling on him. It was even worse, because he didn’t want it to stop. He wanted to feel that burn over <em>every fucking inch</em> of him.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” said Remus quietly, so quiet Sirius thought he may have imagined it. Sirius looked up at him.</p><p>“Sorry,” he repeated again, and Sirius could’ve sworn he felt his heart break into two, felt a knife slice it down the middle. Remus looked <em>distraught</em>, anxiety and fear written all across his face. His teeth tugged at his busted lip and his brows knitted together.</p><p>“Don’t be,” Sirius said softly, and he meant it. God, he meant it.</p><p>Sirius reached up to Remus’s lip, cleaning the blood there. “It’s okay, Remu.”</p><p>He smiled at him, and brushed some hair out of his face so he could see his eyes properly. It was too affectionate, he knew that, too tender, but what could he do? The face that stared back at him, topaz eyes wide and imploring and sharp cheekbones somehow softer than silk in the harsh, sterile light of the bathroom, sent a desperate, clutching wave of longing through Sirius’s chest. What could he do but touch him? His hand moved to Remus’s cheek. “Thank you.” He said, palm resting on the bones there, on the smooth, freckled skin, feeling the tiny scars that dotted along this side of his face under his trembling touch. </p><p>What could he do but kiss him?</p><p>It was slow at first, nervous, nothing like the crackling, bursting heat outside the club. Sirius moved gently, hand still resting on Remus’s cheek, not wanting to hurt him. He hated it, hated how soft Remus felt, how soft he made <em>him</em> feel. Remus leaned forward, mouth damp from cloth and blood, and took Sirius’s face in his own hands, gently brushing his thumb along the gaunt cheekbone.</p><p>
  <em>Maybe I do really fancy Remus Lupin. </em>
</p><p>That thought was enough for Sirius to pull away, reluctantly, and return to wiping Remus’s hands and face. He shook as he did it, though, adrenaline leaving his body in a queasy shudder and Remus, as composed as always, took the cloth from his hands.</p><p>“Sirius?” he murmured, and Sirius, tucking his hair behind his ear, all too familiar with the tone, nodded mutely. “What happened between you and Fabian?”</p><p>
  <em>So there it is.</em>
</p><p>Sirius sighed, pulling his hair out of the bun it was in, shaking his locs free. “It doesn’t matter.” His stomach was twisting, an acidic, heaving mess, and the walls began to loom dangerously close. As soon as he said what Fabian had done, then he’d have to say the next thing, and the next thing, and then that would be it. Remus would be gone. Forever. And Sirius would be down a friend.</p><p><em>If Remus even is my friend.</em> He thought bitterly. Friend’s don’t usually behave like this.</p><p>Remus made a sound. “I took a fist to the face for it.”</p><p>Sirius felt bile rise up in his throat, panic beginning to finger the walls of his windpipe, but he swallowed it down. “I never asked you to.”</p><p>Remus’s eyes flashed. “Noted.”</p><p>Guilt patterned through his chest, but the ache across his ribcage, the fear of exposure, had overridden it. He stayed mute. Sirius moved to finish cleaning Remus’s hand, determined to brush past it, escape it, <em>anything,</em> but the other man pulled away.</p><p>“I’m fine. It’s my fault, isn’t it?” he replied curtly, and shoved Sirius’s touch away. His gentle face, so beautiful and graceful only moments ago, was twisted in frustration. Sirius bit down on his lip, breath beginning to clamber. Suddenly the cold of the bathroom floor seemed invasive, chilling, and spikes of iciness came up through his stomach, careening off his hip bones. <em>Please, not now. </em></p><p>Remus stood up, and the pain in Sirius’s chest began to heighten, a breathless, crushing sensation. His ribs ached dizzyingly. <em>No, no, no, please. </em></p><p>“I’m going home,” Remus said quietly. “I can’t do this anymore.”</p><p>He felt as though he couldn’t breathe. The dull ache in his chest reached a painful crescendo, and his heart hammered weakly against the bone jail of his ribcage.</p><p>“What we’re doing. This. This messing about. It’s stupid. We’re just hurting one another’s feelings.”</p><p>
  <em>Remus, please, please-</em>
</p><p>“Wait-” he choked out, reaching for Remus’s hand, who stopped at the contact. “Just, just wait.”</p><p>It was barely a whisper, but it was enough, and Remus sank back down, tentatively. Conditionally. Like he was waiting for Sirius to say something fucking stupid, to ruin it.<br/>
Sirius’s breaths were coming in short, ragged pumps, each movement a scraping claw along his throat. </p><p>“When we were kids,” he swallowed around the sickening pang in his core, the alarm bells ringing, telling him, pleading with him, <em>imploring</em> to stop, to backtrack, to lie - “we went to high school together. Boarding school.”</p><p>Remus opened his mouth, but Sirius weakly cut him off.</p><p>“No- I. Just, just listen,” he wheezed, tears stinging the back of his eyes. He was ruining it, ruining the friendship, or whatever you could call what they were doing together. </p><p>“I came out as gay in Year 8,” Sirius continued, gritting his teeth, trying desperately to shoulder through the pain in his chest. “And, my family were never supposed to know. But Fabian, he-”</p><p>“Padfoot-”</p><p>“-he outed me. To them. He got into contact with them, called, or wrote, or whatever, and told them I was gay. And, they pulled me out of school for a week. To- to <em>talk things out.” </em></p><p>“Shit,” Remus breathed.</p><p>“I- I guess you can figure out what came next.” Sirius involuntarily lifted his shirt to show a scar under his left pectoral muscle. His hand and arm moved of their own accord, and a dull buzz began to sound in his ear. But something had tripped, some wire or cable or faulty socket, and things were spilling out. Remus had probably seen it, the scar, but he obviously wouldn’t know. And here Sirius was, trembling hands holding up the silk of his shirt to show a silver crescent of a scar on his chest.</p><p>“Fabian knew. He knew what they would do to me if they found out. And he told them anyway.”</p><p>He thought that maybe the tears had fallen, but he couldn't be quite sure. Things seemed a little too far away.	</p><p>He let the shirt fall.</p><p>“Oh my god, Pads,” Remus pulled him into a hug faster than he’d ever done before, fuck, faster than anyone had ever even <em>hugged</em> Sirius before, and Sirius, startled, dropped the cloth, which landed with a wet thump. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured against his neck. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Sirius sat in silence, head still spinning and chest still contracting with agonized lurches. But tentatively, as if Remus was a bomb, he reached his tattooed arms around and held Remus back. Their breathing was humming in a warm synchronicity, like an ocean lapping against a cliff face, receding and swinging forward again, hushed and beautiful and tender. </p><p>Remus pulled away, and took his face in his hands. Sirius leaned into the scarred palm, finding some solace and comfort in the crumpled skin that held his crumpled heart.</p><p>“Your family,” he said, chewing his lip again. “Did they make a habit? Out of it? Did they hurt you a lot?”</p><p>
  <em>Lie.</em>
</p><p>“No,” Sirius shook his head, lying, firmly wading through the deceit. “Just the once.”</p><p>“That doesn’t make it any better,” Remus shook his head firmly. “Shit, I’m so sorry Padfoot.”</p><p>Sirius hated it, hated the pity, but something about the way Moony held him, the way his cold insistent hands framed his face and held him together at the seams, like glue, went straight to his heart.</p><p>
  <em>I fancy Remus Lupin.</em>
</p><p>Remus pressed a kiss to his forehead.</p><p>“I’m sorry I lost my temper.”</p><p>Sirius looked up at him, and then rushed into him, helpless to do anything else but <em>feel</em> Remus, know him, wholly and fully. He kissed him, and then he was fumbling for the door, and in a flash they were in Sirius’s room. The agony in his chest began to spill away, throat opening back up, and Sirius knew this was what he <em>needed</em> - he needed Remus, needed him here, completely and utterly clutched within the moment, two intertwined bodies floating in the fucking mess of the world.</p><p>The soft feel of the bed behind them was a welcome to Sirius’s unmoored, shaking body, and the press of Remus against him, warm and flush and so <em>fucking beautiful</em> undid his core.</p><p>Remus’s face was lowered, above, stretch of scars so close Sirius could reach out and touch them with his lips. So he did, mouth grazing along each beautiful sliver of moonlight, <em>every single one</em>, whispering stories to the silver flesh as hushed kisses passed between bitten lips and bitten flesh.</p><p>“You’re so beautiful,” Sirius murmured against Remus’s collarbone, against the marks nestled there, and his hand came to rest upon the largest scar that spanned his slender chest. Remus flinched involuntarily, and Sirius stilled.</p><p>“Sorry,” he said, already pulling away, but Remus shook his head, pressing in close again, eyes grazing every part of Sirius, all the inked stories and dark circles.</p><p>“Are you sure you want to do this?” Remus whispered to Sirius, faces pressed so close their breath danced along one another’s mouths as if it were their own. “I-I can’t promise you anything. Afterwards. There-there’s nothing beyond this-”</p><p>Sirius shushed him with a soft kiss. He didn’t care, and he didn’t <em>want</em> to. He didn’t need anything but Remus right at that moment, and for many moments after. He didn’t just want him; he <em>needed</em> him, needed him to occupy every fucking inch of his skin, live within every thrumming atom, every crook and angle and bone, the clenching trails of his nervous system and synapses. All of the two of them, togetherness, not sure where one began and the other ended.</p><p>“I <em>need</em> you,” he breathed to Remus, voice almost cracking with strain, with the sheer intensity, the longings and the pinings of the months and months they’d known one another, and even the months before that. It was too affectionate a thing to say, too emotional: but Remus dissolved every single thing within Sirius, and he was helpless to stop every impulse and every word spill out into the night. But Remus, understood - of course he did - and met Sirius with a kiss, one of the longest and deepest ones Sirius had ever met in his entire life.</p><p>Sirius saw stars that night, and for the first time in a long time, they were the kind of star he was not afraid to see.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Like Real People Do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PLEASE READ!!!!!!!!</p><p>hi. so, big chapter timeline wise. time flies!!!<br/>i've made a lot of allusions to Sirius having a problem with alcohol in the fic before, although they were kind of subtle. this chapter is not so discreet. so, CW for discussions of alcoholism.<br/>here are some helplines should you or someone you know or love be struggling with substance abuse.<br/>Call Now 0203 553 0324<br/>there is nothing glamorous about it, and i know with fics, especially with a character such as sirius, it can be hard to understand and differentiate between the exciting, dashing parts of his life and the really, really crappy ones. PLEASE take care of yourselves! i love you :)<br/>the song for this chapter is like real people do by the one and only hozier<br/>yes there is an atyd reference in here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> I had a thought, dear<br/>
However scary<br/>
About that night<br/>
The bugs and the dirt<br/>
Why were you digging?<br/>
What did you bury<br/>
Before those hands pulled me<br/>
From the earth?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I will not ask you where you came from<br/>
I will not ask you, neither should you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips<br/>
We should just kiss like real people do. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It came like sunlight after that, stolen kisses in the corners of clubs and shadowy hallways, smoking breaks and takeaway trips, anything to escape from under the watchful gaze of their friends. No one suspected a thing, of course: Remus was incredibly casual, almost frustratingly so - only Lily and James knew, and they understood Sirius better than he did himself. And if they disapproved, they didn’t push it. But Sirius didn’t see why they would - he was okay, he was <em>fine</em> - and Lily and Remus quickly became the best of friends, all warm laughs and smiling hugs. Remus was a welcome break to all of Flat 13A.</p><p>Sometimes it was at his apartment, sometimes Remus’s. And <em>God</em> did Sirius love Remus’s flat: it was small, so <em>tiny</em> compared to where Sirius lived, and plastered floor to ceiling in stacks and stacks of books, old and new, all equally thumbed and battered. It smelt like cigarette smoke and cinnamon, like sea salt and tea. Just how Remus tasted. It <em>was</em> Remus, all over, and Sirius adored just <em>basking</em> in him, all slender and sharp angles lost in a sea of melting wool and corduroy, the walls practically signed with his name, every floating dust particle emboldened with his DNA. Sirius could cuddle with Remus forever, speak softly into his collarbone, about anything and everything, but he didn’t. That would be too affectionate.</p><p>He rarely ever stayed the night, no matter who’s apartment it was. When it was Remus’s, he would consistently find himself sheepishly pulling his clothes back on with trembling fingers, the ghost of Remus’s roaming hands and mouth still gently moving along his skin, while Remus, unabashed as always, would recline on his bed, so unbothered, so <em>nonchalant</em>, neatly blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth with his eyebrows raised and face pulled into a smirk, lazily observing Sirius’s body.</p><p>Sometimes the night passed them, and one of them would stay over, body heavy on the sagging bed. Remus would fall asleep on him usually, or roll over in the night, tight mess of curls against his chest, slim arm flung over Sirius’s bare centre, skinny wrists glinting in the low-light of the night filled bedroom, air sweet and hot. Every time he did Sirius would feel his heart clench as a tender wave of longing careened through him, and he yearned to wake him up, whisper in his ear, tell him stories of love and art and music. </p><p>But he didn’t, and all he could really digest from then on was a sort of bitter anger, at himself and the world, his fucking mess of a brain and his weak, feeble heart. He could only reach around, encircle the wiry man who slept on his chest, tattooed arms embracing scarred ones, and breathe in the scent of his hair, the two of them clutching each other through the monstrous waves of the witching hour, one sleeping, and one so very painfully awake.</p><p>In the mornings he would slip out before Remus stirred, rubbing his eyes and messing up his hair, running his hand through the black throes, forcing red eyelids and cowlicked strands. Acting, pretending, yawning.</p><p>“Sleep alright?” Remus would ask, voice always so frustratingly beautiful, that fucking <em>Welsh accent</em> croaky with the morning sun.</p><p>“Never better,” Sirius would flash his award-winning grin, and slip out of the apartment, regardless of whose it was, before Remus could say or do anything else, the sheer terror of exposure or domesticity, or both, kicking his feet into action. The bike would take his troubles away, and when he returned, Remus was gone. The space he left on the bed beside Sirius felt emptier than it ever had before he’d even existed.</p><p> </p><p>The spring and summer months stretched in full bloom, the soft sunlight illuminating every corner of Sirius’s flat, or Remus’s living room. Sirius could look for <em>forever</em> at the way the golden light poured into Remus’s eyes, but he didn’t, instead simply kissing him, always just <em>kissing</em> him, so desperate to feel the two of them attached together that it was all he could do not to fasten himself there permanently, stitch the two bodies together. His friends adored the sunny weather, and they more often than not found themselves in beer gardens, or parks, or balconies of cramped London flats, the taste of cheap cider and hummus fresh on their mouths. Sirius liked to taste it on Remus best, though.</p><p>But Sirius didn’t care - it could be a torrential snowstorm, a cataclysmic hail, and he would be unbothered. He had all the sunlight he needed in those fucking eyes of Remus’s.</p><p> </p><p>It was August. Sirius and James sat on opposite ends of the sofa, and Remus was on the other side of the room. Sirius hated it, and his skin practically itched for Remus’s, to feel the contact of him, and his mouth, and his shoulder, and scars, and-</p><p>“Sirius!” James snapped, pillow hitting the black-haired boy straight in the face. “I’m fucking talking to you!”</p><p>Sirius threw the cushion back. “Probably why I wasn’t listening.”</p><p>“Reggie was asking if you’ve been seeing anyone,” James stuck his tongue out, and Sirius scoffed. Regulus was visiting, and he was currently draped over an armchair in the Potter’s living room, drawn and angular face that was once a mirror of Sirius’s stretched into a huge smile, eyes fervent and bright with conversation.  As blase as ever, Sirius tossed his head back and laughed, ignoring the prickle of anxiety that tickled his chest and the clambering blush on his face. Amber eyes bore into him from across the room.</p><p>“No,” he said pointedly at his younger brother, who scrunched his nose up.</p><p>Regulus raised his eyebrows, aristocratic face suspended in thought for a moment.</p><p>“What about that guy you met in mid-December?” he started, and Sirius felt his cheeks grow even redder. <em>Shut up, Regulus.</em> “The one you couldn’t stand? God, you <em>hated</em> him.”</p><p>Sirius’s hand clenched, imperceptible, and his stomach felt funny, mouth turning slightly sour. <em>Please don’t let it be-</em></p><p>“Where did you say he worked again? Was it, oh, the uh-”</p><p>“Shut up, Reg,” Sirius lobbed a throw cushion at his younger brother, who yelped as it hit him square in the face. Sirius saw Remus out of the corner of his eye, chewing his lip, and guilt trickled into Sirius’s tummy. The room felt awkwardly quiet. Sirius hadn’t launched the cushion in time.</p><p>But this was what they had agreed on, right? To tell other people would make it <em>real</em> - make it a relationship, or as close to that as either of them could have. No strings. The words from so many months ago, the cold January night, seemed foreign now in the dusky August afternoon. But Remus’s lips still felt like home to him, still so achingly familiar and perfect and right.</p><p>Sirius rubbed his eyes. <em>God, what a mess.</em></p><p>He needed to get pissed.</p><p>“Who wants a drink?” Sirius stood up, tossing his mane of hair and putting on his dazzling smile.</p><p>“Sirius, it’s four in the afternoon,” James said tiredly, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses, and Sirius rolled his eyes. James had always been controlling over Sirius’s alcohol intake, and had since they were kids, but he’d been watching him like a <em>hawk</em> this year.</p><p>“It’s also a <em>Saturday,</em> Prongs,” Sirius gestured dramatically, and hopping over the back of the sofa deftly, desperately clawing at a masquerade of unbothered energy. “Who wants one?”</p><p>Most of the group remained silent, the air still thick, and Sirius caught sight of Dorcas softly shaking her head. His stomach clenched, frustration and embarrassment tightening his chest. First Regulus and his huge fucking mouth, and now everyone looking at him like he was a charity case. He didn’t need their <em>concern</em>, their <em>pity</em>, damnit, he just needed some Tito’s. It was <em>summer</em>, it was warm, and Regulus was visiting. Why not celebrate?</p><p>“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “Squares.”</p><p>He wandered through to the kitchen, unearthing the bottle of Tito’s from the cupboard. It was considerably emptier than yesterday, and Sirius dryly wondered whether it was his fault or James’s - James had a tendency to pour drinks away. <em>Euphemia through and through. </em> He poured himself two shots and threw them back, shaking his hair once more. </p><p>“I’ll have one, if you’re pouring,” Remus said softly from behind Sirius, and, bracing himself, feeling the detached devil-may-care attitude descend over his face, spun around with a huge smile.</p><p>“Sure thing, Moony,” he winked, and made one for him, passing it into the man’s slim hand. Remus tipped it back with a slight wince, and Sirius smirked. He always enjoyed watching Remus’s effortlessly cool demeanour crack, ever so slightly. His face was so beautiful, Sirius thought, cheekbones casting shadows, pale pink marks and a universe of new freckles, courtesy of the summer sunshine, peppering his angular face, which glowed in the golden hour light.</p><p>Sirius leaned forward to kiss Remus, happy they were alone in the kitchen, but Remus retracted, hand on Sirius’s chest.</p><p>Sirius looked down at the hand, and then back up, confused, brows knitting together. Remus looked conflicted.</p><p>“Maybe now’s not the best time,” he began measuredly, and Sirius rolled his eyes. <em>This, again? First James, and now him? </em></p><p>“Moony. It is August, and I am having <em>two</em> shots of Tito’s. I am <em>fine</em>.”</p><p>Remus looked concerned, and his lips parted, as if words lay still on his tongue, so close to spilling out but held back by some trailing inhibition. Sirius’s stomach lurched. No matter how hard he tried, feelings <em>always</em> seemed to come up when he was with Remus, and he couldn’t handle the discussions that ensued. Sirius took his chin instead, brushing away the shuddering tide of sensations and emotion that lapped around their auras. </p><p>“Kiss me,” he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows, and Remus grinned, seemingly happy at the familiar Sirius Black jibe, the sing-song voice and devilish grin, and leaned in.</p><p>“You taste so fucking good,” Sirius murmured against his mouth, and Remus laughed breathlessly. </p><p>“Because I just had a shot of your favourite alcohol,” he said back, and Sirius pulled his mouth away, albeit reluctantly, throwing his head back to laugh. How could things be bad, when his Moony was around?</p><p><em>Not your Moony.</em> He scolded. <em> Just Moony.</em></p><p>“Potentially,” he admitted with a cheeky smile. “But you always taste nice.”</p><p>He placed a small kiss on Remus’s nose, earning a chuckle, then his cheek, and other cheek, and chin, under his eyes and on his jawline, and finally mouth.</p><p>“I’d much rather consume my Tito’s like this,” he grinned, teeth scraping Remus’s, who rolled his eyes affectionately, hand in Sirius’s hair.</p><p>“Even though you hate me?” he said, a little roughly, and Sirius pulled away in surprise, cursing everyone in the bastard living room.</p><p>“Remus, I can explain-”</p><p>A voice came from the entry way and the two sprang apart like a broken stopwatch falling apart, used to the dull, ticking clockwork of detaching their limbs every time someone came near.</p><p>“Don’t worry, only me,” James said, pushing his glasses into his hair, copper skin flashing bright in the warm sunlight of the kitchen. He rummaged around in the fridge for his usual block of cheese, and Sirius, putting the Tito’s away and brushing an unseen kiss against Remus’s collarbone, made a derisive sound.</p><p>“You are <em>so</em> sick in the head,” Sirius groaned as his best friend took a bite out of the supermarket chunk of cheddar, and Remus sniggered.</p><p>James wiggled his eyebrows seductively, puckering his lips. “Don’t you know it, baby,” he winked, sultry, and shimmied towards Sirius, who shrieked with laughter and pelted his roommate with satsumas from the fruit bowl.</p><p>“Come on Padfoot, I know you want to,” he cackled gleefully, and Sirius made a retching sound.</p><p>“Remus, restrain Prongs. Immediately. While I call the authorities.”</p><p>Remus grinned, long arms lunging forward, and James squealed delightedly, darting away, cheese still clutched in hand like a child with a toy.</p><p>“Don’t worry Remus,” he shook his head, mouth still full of cheddar, much to Sirius’s disgust and dismay. “I’m not stealing your boyfriend.”</p><p>
  <em>Clunk.</em>
</p><p>James grinned, and blinked, seemingly oblivious to the entire mood of the kitchen change. Sirius shot him a glare, and his eyes widened a little bit, realising what he’d said. Sirius felt an almost dull grey feeling seep into his chest. Remus shifted awkwardly, and James, face growing red, discarded the yellow block on the countertop. </p><p>“I’ll go see if anyone wants tea,” he muttered, darting out of the room, and Sirius rubbed his eyes for the second time that evening, pushing white hot bursts into his vision.</p><p>When he opened his eyes, Remus was gone.</p><p> </p><p>October was Remus’s season, in Sirius’s head. His birthday was in March, sure, but something about the ochres and oranges; the biting chill that left eyes bright and noses red; the crunch of fallen leaves and the taste of fresh brewed coffee just <em>screamed</em> Remus.</p><p>Sirius shouldered into the door of Beats and Beans, bell above the door, secretly delighted to see Remus behind the counter. He watched him for a moment, enjoying the idea that this was Remus when Sirius wasn’t around. He was making what looked like a very complicated order, presumably for the impatient blonde woman who tapped her heeled toe on the floor. Remus was chewing his lip, eyebrows furrowed, thin and boney hands deftly darting between the special ingredient, and Sirius smiled to himself, shaking out his hair and blowing into his hands that sported only fingerless gloves. When the lady’s coffee was safely deposited on the counter-top, with an all too endearing smile from Remus, Sirius sauntered up the counter.</p><p>“Hey,” he grinned, and Remus looked up, face breaking into a smile. </p><p>“Hey yourself,” he said, and Sirius fought the urge to launch himself over the counter and sweep the sweater clad man into a hug.</p><p>
  <em> A hug? A fucking hug? Jesus, Sirius. </em>
</p><p>“Could I get the usual please, Moonshine?” Sirius offered, and Remus, shaking his head at the nickname, unsuccessfully hiding the small smile that tracked across his lips, set about making it. Sirius fumbled around in his pocket for some change, and Remus called out to him.</p><p>“On the house,” he smirked, and Sirius cheered.</p><p>“That’s why you’re my favourite, Moons,” he crowed, and then scolded himself. Far too affectionate. <em> For fuck’s sake. </em></p><p>Remus set the cup down in front of Sirius, who took it with a polite thank you, suddenly feeling very small, and very, very stupid. How must he look to Remus?</p><p>Sirius sipped his coffee, only noticing the note on the side of the cup when he was well back onto the street, crossing the busy road.</p><p>
  <em>My place tonight. ;) </em>
</p><p>Sirius grinned.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>NOVEMBER 1ST</em>
</p><p>The night was still, and Remus was sleeping softly. The November air hung crisp and cool.</p><p>And he watched, for a while, at the other man sprawled, tangled in the sheets like a loosened thread and fraying hem, with long limbs awry. How easily he slept, how quickly it came to him, the lavender blanket, the carrying cloud. He watched, for a long time, at the vision of Remus in front of him, cheekbones soft with the shadow of his eyelashes, mouth slightly parted, freckles and scars shimmering in the moonlight like fucking stardust, the clambering heights of cityscape scars on his chest and his arms, the raw and ragged pink skin so fucking beautiful in the cold glow.</p><p>He lit a cigarette, and watched. And as he watched, he thought to himself,</p><p>
  <em> this will never be enough. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. There's a Starman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PLEASE READ!!!!!!!!!</p><p>i know what you're probably thinking. wow you are the best for uploading all of these so quickly.<br/>it's because these chapters will hit more if they're read shortly after each other.<br/>you can also look forward to a little POV change, and maybe some timeline jumping, because it wouldn't be wolfstar if it wasn't complicated.<br/>CW: mature sexual content ish, legal drug use, and allusions to alcoholism.<br/>sirius turns 23 :')<br/>this chapter is chronologically just after the last paragraph of the last chapter.<br/>song is starman by david bowie. it's how sirius sees remus.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Didn't know what time it was, the lights were low,<br/>
I leaned back on my radio.<br/>
Some cat was layin down some rock 'n' roll<br/>
"Lotta soul," he said.<br/>
Then the loud sound did seem to fade,<br/>
Came back like a slow voice on a wave of phase,<br/>
That weren't no DJ, that was hazy cosmic jive.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There's a starman waiting in the sky,<br/>
He'd like to come and meet us,<br/>
But he thinks he'd blow our minds.<br/>
There's a starman waiting in the sky,<br/>
He's told us not to blow it,<br/>
'Cause he knows it's all worthwhile. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sirius Black’s birthday was one of the most explosive events of every year for his friends, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.</p><p>But when he woke on the morning of his 23rd birthday, dawn barely breathing through the thinly drawn curtains, still twitching from his nightmare, grasping wildly round for Remus to hold him, a feeling of dread settled into his stomach.</p><p>Sirius Black was falling in love.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius wasn’t one for contemplation, usually preferring the careless whirlwind of everyday life, determined to live not only carelessly, but vicariously, relishing in the pure ecstatic pleasure of each moment he could catch with his fingers. But he found himself very much contemplating the last year of his life - more specifically, the December he’d met Remus Lupin, nearly one whole year ago, and the months that followed. He stared intently at a chip in the shower tile, letting the running water carry his thoughts.</p><p>He couldn’t really place the timeline, as life before Remus seemed to fade into mist and life with him just out of reach, just a little too far away to tangibly touch, to pull his fingers into the fog. </p><p>10 months. 10 days. 10 centuries.</p><p>Sirius wasn’t quite sure.</p><p><em>How long could they go on like this?</em> He thought bleakly, blinking away the droplets on his eyelashes. </p><p>
  <em>How long could they keep themselves trapped in mundanity?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How long could they keep hiding?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Who were they hiding from?</em>
</p><p><em> Maybe he doesn’t care about you like that, Sirius.</em> The voice in his head said sweetly. Sirius sighed and closed his eyes, not fighting it. Letting the voice wash over him with the steaming flow from the shower. Maybe for once, it might’ve been right. <em>Do you really think he could go 10 months liking you and not do anything about it? </em></p><p>
  <em>You’re a body, Sirius. A void to consume. A mouth to feel.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A place to rest his head. </em>
</p><p>Remus was a moon. Sirius knew that, because he knew his astronomy. <em>The inner and smaller moon of the main asteroid belt 87 Sylvia,</em> he rattled off in his brain. But to Sirius, Remus wasn’t just the moon, or the greek figure, or just some Latin word. He was the sun.</p><p>Maybe it was the amount of amber he radiated, all topaz eyes and honey-coloured hair, light smatterings of freckles and chipped smile. Maybe it was the dreadfully hideous jumpers and shitty courdory’s. Maybe it was the tattoo and ear piercings. Maybe it was the scars. Maybe it was the fucking fantastic coffee.</p><p>Or maybe it was just <em>him,</em> the way he was so gentle and pure and fucking <em>kind</em>. He was constantly changing, always in motion, in flux, never still, never satiated - but the one thing he maintained was the fucking warm glow that filled Sirius’s solar plexus every time he was with him. Sometimes Remus could be angry, and dark, other times jaded, exhausted, teeth chewing at his lip and body hunched in on itself. But no matter where he went, his hands stayed the same. Every kiss was like the first time over and over, as Remus pulled him apart, tugging away every single atom of his body and then stitching them back up together with his fucking <em>beautiful mouth.</em></p><p>No matter where he went, Sirius Black would follow.</p><p>“Shit,” Sirius Black breathed.</p><p>He needed to get pissed.</p><p> </p><p>“P-P-P-Padfoot!” James’s comforting Scouse bellow echoed through the flat, impressively so, considering the size of it. “Happy Birthday!”</p><p>Sirius barrelled into James, determined to drown out any semblance of Remus Lupin with the familiar comfort of his best friends. James picked Sirius up, incredibly strong as ever, and Sirius wrapped his slender legs around his waist, clutching onto him like a baby, laughing face buried in the crook of James’s collarbone. James spun around, wind whooshing past Sirius’s ears, flat spinning, and he shrieked gleefully as James peeled him off and enshrouded him in a bear hug. The crushing weight of another body added to the embrace caused the trio to topple onto the nearby sofa, and they ended up a huge, heaving pile of laughing bodies, headlocks being formed and hair being pulled.</p><p>“Big 23!” Lily yelled, slapping a party hat onto Sirius’s head, deliberately twinging the elastic so it snapped onto his chin. He smacked her hand away with a grin, and James appeared with a huge mug of coffee. Sirius cooed and took it from him, sipping the hot liquid. </p><p>“Off to a fabulous start, my dears,” he added, settling down into an armchair, stretching his legs out. He was in faded pyjama bottoms and an even <em>more</em> faded Mott The Hoople tee-shirt. He nestled into himself, the soft cotton a cocooning comfort around his terror-weary joints.</p><p>
  <em>Not as comfortable as Remus. </em>
</p><p>He shook the thought away, taking a big gulp of the scalding coffee, burnt throat shocking him back to reality. James was on him in a second, waving poorly wrapped presents with a beaming Lily by his side.</p><p>“Open them!” James implored, dumping them in Sirius’s lap, who put his hand over his mouth in mock shock and real gratitude.</p><p>“Oh, Prongs, you shouldn’t have!” he cooed, and James and Lily rolled their eyes, sitting back on their heels on the grey living room rug. Sirius unwrapped the first present, shrieking with glee when he saw it was a box - a very big one. Tugging it open he beamed at the amount of coffee pods inside. There must have been about 500 of them, all little plastic things, all different colours. He looked up at James with a smile.</p><p>“Prongs, this is brilliant… but we don’t have a Nespresso machine.”</p><p>“Ah-ah!” Lily halted, and shoved a second box towards him. Sirius’s stomach bubbled with excitement, pure love and adoration for his best friends crashing over him. He ripped open the cardboard and practically squealed with joy at the silver Nescafe machine that glinted up at him.</p><p>“James. Lily. I could kiss you both right now,” he said very seriously, looking them both dead in the eye, corner of his mouth twitching up in a smirk. James puckered his lips and closed his eyes, and Lily giggled at him, perpetually amused by her immature husband. In retaliation, Sirius lifted his sock-clad foot and stuck it right onto James’s outstretched lips. James reeled back as Lily and Sirius erupted into peals of laughter.</p><p>The next present was a tattoo already pre-paid for by James and Lily at Sirius’s favourite parlour, Mad Eye Moody’s, which earned Lily a kiss on the cheek and James a wet smooch on the forehead. Lily was just bringing in a plate of pancakes while Sirius excitedly outlined his new tattoo idea to a very studious looking James, when a soft knock came at the door. </p><p>Lily craned her neck, a puzzled look on her face.</p><p>“Who’s that?” she murmured, but Sirius was already rolling off his seat.</p><p>“I’m the birthday boy,” he announced with a sweeping bow. “I shall greet my subjects.”</p><p>James threw a screwed up ball of wrapping paper at his head and Sirius flipped him off, grabbing one of the Scotch pancakes off the huge plate Lily had just lugged from the kitchen. Stuffing the soft, maple-flavoured thing in his mouth, cheeks balling up like a chipmunk, he flung open the door, expecting to see Dorcas and Marlene, or maybe Kingsley.</p><p>Remus stood awkwardly in the doorway, in a usual jumper that hung loose off of his boney frame, faded blue boyfriend jeans pooled around his stupidly long legs.</p><p>“Hey,” he smiled, eyes sparkling, mouth suddenly twitching into a smirk, looking down at Sirius, and Sirius realised he was still effectively in pyjamas, mouth <em>full</em> of pancake, and smeared eyeliner that <em>would not fucking come off</em> rimmed around his blue eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, grinning sheepishly, just the fucking <em>sight</em> of the other man melting everything inside him, all the anxieties and fears and dreads of the morning floating away through the air, carried away on amber-coloured whims.</p><p>“Hey, ‘Emush,” Sirius said round a mouthful of food, and, unsure what to do, stepped aside to let the other man in. He was carrying a tote bag, Sirius noted, and filed that away into the <em>Reasons Why Remus Lupin Is a Grandmother</em> list. Remus stepped through to the living room and received a ball of wrapping paper straight to the face.</p><p>“Sorry Remus lad!” James cackled as Remus tossed it back. “Thought you were Sirius.”</p><p>Sirius rolled his eyes and sat back down onto his chair heavily.</p><p>“Could see the confusion,” Remus nodded studiously, a serious expression on his face, and James, as loving as ever, smiled a wide smile and threw another piece at him, earning a pancake to the face from the tall barista. Remus was quickly becoming their best friend. Sirius shifted uncomfortably, and Remus noticed, smile fading a little.</p><p>But with a blink, it was gone, replaced by that endearing chipped tooth grin, and he handed Sirius a thin package, wrapped in eco-friendly tissue paper.</p><p><em>Reasons Why Remus Lupin Is a Grandmother</em> would be growing, it seemed.</p><p>Sirius, with a dazzling wink, glittering countenance trying to desperately mask the swirl of emotions in his stomach, opened it, and gasped when he saw what it was.</p><p>“Oh Remus! You fucking <em>angel</em>,” Sirius exclaimed, and Remus, sat on the sofa opposite, leaned back with a knowing smile.</p><p>“It’s the only Bowie one you don’t have.”</p><p>Sirius brandished his new copy of ‘The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars’ at James, who’s mouth formed a small O as he read the back.</p><p>“Now we match,” Remus said sheepishly, ducking his head, and Sirius’s stomach was hit with such a wave of affection for the stupid man, heart tightening and breath barely squeezing out. He bounded over and pulled a startled Remus into a hug, not really recognising what he was doing until he did it. Remus gasped and stumbled a little, then smiled, eyes blinking in surprise. Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus before he could remember why he <em>absolutely not be affectionately hugging Remus Lupin in the middle of his living room at 10 am </em> and buried his face into his collarbone, murmuring, “I love it, thank you,”. Remus’s long arms circled around Sirius’s waist, recovering from the initial shock of contact, and his breath was short by Sirius’s ear as his curl-laden head bent down to sweep the man up.</p><p>“Hey, you,” he said, breathless, the air tickling the side of Sirius’s face.</p><p>James cleared his throat and Sirius fell back to awareness, detaching himself from the long limbs of Remus, wishing so desperately he could just hold him for a <em>little while longer.</em></p><p>Brushing the stupid thought off, he ruffled Remus’s golden curls instead.</p><p>“James, put it on!” He crowed excitedly, desperate to whisk away the lingering tenderness that hung around the still crooked limbs of the two men, and James put the record onto the turntable.</p><p>They sat for a while, coffee and pancakes, laughing and throwing things and being <em>fucking immature</em>, as the four of them always did. Moonage Daydream came to an end, and the familiar starting notes of Starman began to play.</p><p>“I <em>love</em> this one!” Remus cheered, jumping up, dragging Lily up with him. The two of them started to sway and sing, and Sirius, heart stammering but too overwhelmed by emotion to do much else, sprung up and joined them, and soon the four of them were dancing.</p><p>“Didn’t know what time it was the lights were low-oh-oh-oh, I leaned back on my radio-oh-oh-oh,” Remus sung, soft and lilting Welsh accent striking Sirius right in the core, leaving him dizzy with a rush of adoration. Frustrated with himself, with his stupid weakness, he spun away, determined to lose himself in one of his favourite songs.</p><p><em>You’re weak.</em> The voice that sounded an awful lot like Walburga’s hissed in his ear, and he shook his head, physically trying to dislodge. <em>A sensitive, weak, coward.</em></p><p>“Lotta soul!” James wailed in Sirius’s ear, making him jump, but he grinned, capitalising on the distraction, sounds of Bowie drowning out his mother’s dark glower.</p><p>Sirius swayed with James and the chorus notes began to play, and before he knew it, he was in front of Remus, hands on the side of his head, Remus’s palm’s mirroring Sirius’s on the black-haired boy’s face. Their foreheads were close, so very close, almost touching, and they both yelled into one another’s faces, the words “Staaaaarmaaaannnnn,” seeming to echo through the flat. Walburga’s voice faded away, into nothing, as did the rest of the apartment, James and Lily included, and the world slowed around them. All he could see was Remus’s face, those beautiful amber eyes and hollow cheeks plastered in a feverish grin. Just Remus, and him, singing at one another, palms cupping the other’s chin, and for now, that was enough.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I think I might love Remus Lupin.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sirius rummaged through his drawer. All of his outfits seemed desperately mundane, and he wondered when his wardrobe had become so inadequate.</p><p>“Oi, Padfoot,” Remus barged into the room, still buttoning up the green shirt, the one Sirius <em>adored</em>. “Shit! Sorry!” He balked at Sirius’s almost naked state, stood in only boxers, hair still wet from a shower, tattoos stark in the bedroom lamplight.</p><p>“Nothing you haven’t seen before, Moony,” Sirius snorted, turning back to his drawer, and then immediately regretted it. This wasn’t something they <em>talked</em> about, just something they <em>did.</em> Like drinking coffee or brushing teeth or breathing air, Remus and Sirius found one another, reaching out through the dark, joining, stitched together, and then falling apart, retreating into darkness, not a word of acknowledgement seeming to pass between them.</p><p>He chewed his lip and looked up at Remus, who just smiled, perpetually blase, and sauntered over to the open drawer, nudging Sirius aside with his sharp hip. He deftly picked a shirt from the pile.</p><p>“This one,” he stated, holding it up to the light, and then passed it to Sirius with a wink. </p><p>Sirius looked at it, and grinned internally. It <em>was</em> a good shirt, a satiny silk burgundy one, with brassy-brown buttons and a sinfully open collar. Sirius shrugged it on, still painfully aware of Remus’s lazy gaze raking over him, and fumbled with the buttons. Remus’s cold hands went over his, and he looked up, unable to help the twitch of a smile that crossed over his lips. Remus deftly did the buttons, long fingers cold against Sirius’s bare chest, and then, finished, he smoothed it out, eyes fixed on Sirius.</p><p>“You look so fucking good in burgundy,” he smirked, leaning in, pressing a firm kiss to Sirius’s lips, who ran his tongue over the bottom of Remus’s lip, already ready to take the shirt off. Much to Sirius’s dismay and frustration though, pulled away, evilly grinning at the way Sirius chased his lips with his own, <em>needing</em> contact.</p><p>Remus hummed and tucked Sirius’s black curls behind his ear. Sirius’s hair was a bit longer than when he’d first known Remus, brushing his shoulders now, still cut into the shaggy mullet that Sirius championed and tossed at every opportunity.</p><p>Remus leaned in low, lips brushing against Sirius’s, barely there, and then he whispered against his mouth.</p><p>“Later, yeah? Tonight,” he breathed, and then was pulling away from Sirius, backing towards the door. Sirius chewed his lip in frustration, hand clenching and lips complaining, suddenly feeling very naked without Remus’s shape pressed against them.</p><p>“Put some trousers on, you fucking pervert,” Remus called over his shoulder with a wicked laugh, tossing a pair of jeans at the dishevelled Sirius, who batted them away with a pointed glare. The door shut, and Sirius sank onto the edge of his bed, slowing his heart and scrubbing his hands over his face. Lady Stardust faintly played in the background, and the image of Remus, so casual, so <em>unbothered</em>, so unaware of the way he made Sirius’s heart feel, lay imprinted on his eyelids.</p><p>
  <em>And he was alright, the band was altogether<br/>
Yes, he was alright, the song went on forever<br/>
Yes, he was awful nice<br/>
Really quite out of sight<br/>
And he sang all night long<br/>
</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I think I’m in love with Remus Lupin. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The music in Virgo was practically <em>vibrating</em> through Sirius, and he faintly wondered <em>quite</em> how much he had had to drink, as he blew cigarette smoke through the half-cracked window in the Virgo toilets, sounds of Remus gasping and re-buckling his belt in the background.</p><p>Remus came up behind him, hands snaking around, reaching up, given that Sirius was perched on a raised part of the wall, plucking the cigarette from Sirius’s mouth, who craned his neck and grinned drunkenly at him. Remus, as equally tipsy, took a few tugs on the fag, breathing the smoke back up into Sirius’s mouth through a desperate, gasping kiss. Sirius relished in being the taller one for once, and sucked appreciatively on the cigarette, familiar burn scraping his windpipe. Sirius tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling, smoke lazily unfurling from his mouth, while Remus’s lips, usually cold, ran hot on his throat, leaving marks that he would undeniably have to make an excuse for.</p><p>Sirius tangled his hand in Remus’s hair as best he could given the sheer amount of alcohol currently coursing through his veins, and gently pulled Remus’s head back, grip fastened on his curls, leaning in with a smirk. Remus reached up and gently kissed the bar threaded through Sirius’s eyebrow, his newest piercing that he got in September. </p><p>“Again?” Remus breathed, eyes glassy.</p><p>It was Sirius’s turn to be cruel, and he leaned ever so close to Remus, breathing against his lips, the taste of cigarette smoke, all menthol and tobacco and the citrine spark of whatever the two of them had been drinking dancing along their kiss bitten lips. “Later,” he whispered, and hopped down from his perch, stubbing the cigarette out on the wall. </p><p>“Come on,” he grabbed Remus’s hand, clasping the fingers, and tugged him towards the exit.</p><p>Remus ran a hand through his hair, eyes still feverish. “You wait here,” he murmured, straightening his clothes out. “Come out a little after me, okay?”</p><p>Whether it was the alcohol, the cigarettes, or the absence of Remus’s perfect body pressed against him, Sirius felt his heart sink. Remus turned away and slipped through the door and Sirius laid his head back on the wall, frustration prickling at his throat, a sting behind his eyes, moment desperately fleeing and the warmth unfurling in his centre wilting, retracting, dying.</p><p><em>You’re weak,</em> Walburga whispered.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I think I’m in love with Remus Lupin. <em></em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Flat 13A was packed, bodies everywhere, Sirius’s social circle swanning around and dancing. Sirius was with Dorcas, twirling her around, much to the rest of the guest’s delight. He picked her up and whirled her in a circle, and she shrieked and batted at his shoulders. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Put me down!” she laughed, and Sirius obliged, tossing her at the sofa. She flipped him off with a grin. “I’ll get you for that, Black!”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Sure, Dorky,” Sirius stuck his tongue out and, dodging a lunge from her, tugged her hair. “Be right back for a rematch.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He hopped through to the kitchen, drunkenly dodging the people in his apartment, and uncorked the wine, pouring himself a large glass.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Hey,” a voice whispered in his ear, and Sirius, never more glad that the kitchen was empty, spun around and clutched Remus in a bruising kiss, hands sliding up his shirt and tracing the scars seared across the freckled back.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Hey, yourself,” Sirius murmured back, as Remus lifted him onto the countertop, narrowly missing the wine. “Remus, what are - <em>oh</em>!”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>I think I’m in love with Remus Lupin. </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>The hours flew by, and soon people started to leave. Sirius didn’t care. They could all leave, as far as he cared. He had more than enough right now.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>The pair stumbled into the bedroom, both too savagely drunk to move properly, tongues heavy in their mouths and clothes heavier. Remus kicked the door shut behind him, practically <em>pawing</em> at Sirius’s shirt, tearing it off, the two of them careening into bed. Sirius’s breaths came in short gasps, so woefully synchronised with Remus’s, so <em>fucking perfectly fit together</em>, and Sirius wrapped his arms around the other man, so desperate to have him close. Sirius clutched Remus and the world melted, everything trickling away until it was just <em>Remus</em>, just him, always him, encapsulated within the moment, every single time their lips had ever met and hands had roamed roaring through Sirius’s mind as he pushed against the body heavy over him.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>I’m in love with Remus Lupin. </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>They lay in bed together, laboured breathing slowing down, bodies fastened together, embroidered, stitched at the seams, everything fitting, slotting, gently clicking into place, as the silver scarred skin wrapped around him. The smell of Remus, the taste of him, the <em>sound</em> of him just overwhelmed Sirius’s brain, drunken mind a blissful, amber fog. His head was resting on Remus’s chest, and he could see the raised skin of the moonlit flesh dancing on it, so close. He wished he could see nothing else. He wished he could live within the scars. He wished he could bring himself to love Remus outwardly, instead of in shame, in embarrassment, in regret.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>But everything faded away, and he could sense nothing but <em>pure contentment</em>, nothing but a blistering sense of longing and love humming under his skin, over every fibre and synapse and nerve, just breathing the two syllables that Sirius felt as though he would orbit for the rest of fucking time. <em>Remus.</em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Fy nghariad,” Remus murmured in Welsh against his hair, and Sirius gently traced Remus’s scars with his fingertips.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“What does that mean?” Sirius asked quietly, still lazily pulling his fingers over the beautiful scar tissue that encompassed Remus.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Remus paused, and then sighed against his hair.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“It means idiot,” he said quietly, and Sirius snorted, closing his eyes.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Tired,” he murmured against Remus’s chest.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Then sleep,” the other voice whispered.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He dimly registered panic somewhere, some inhibition, some reminder, telling him to get up, to move, something was wrong, so desperately wrong, as sleep clambered through his core and tugged at the edges of his eyes. Maybe he was drunk, or too tired, or maybe he was just stupidly, ridiculously in love, but he brushed it away, nestling close to the body that entwined steadfast around his, interwoven, stitched, knitted together.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>What could possibly hurt him, when his Moony held him like this?</em>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Not Enough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sirius and remus are dumb.<br/>CW alcoholism, chronic pain.<br/>sorry the song is so long i just love the lyrics</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em><br/>
</em></p><p>
  <em>A love struck Romeo, sings the streets of serenade,</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Laying everybody low with a love song that he made.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>He find a streetlight, steps out of the shade,</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Says something like, "you and me, babe, how about it?"</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Juliet says, "hey, it's Romeo, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>He's underneath the window, she's singing,</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>"Hey, la, my boyfriend's back!"</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>You shouldn't come around here, singing up at people like that.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Anyway what you going to do about it?</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Juliet, the dice was loaded from the start.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>And I bet and you exploded in my heart.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>And I forget, I forget the movie song,</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>When you going to realize, it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Come up on different streets, they both were streets of shame,</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Both dirty, both mean, yes and the dream was just the same,</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>And I dream your dream for you and now your dream is real.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>How can you look at me, as if I was just another one of your deals?</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Says something like, "you and me, babe, how about it?"</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>The phone was buzzing.<br/>
"Remus?"</p><p>
  <em>EARLIER THAT YEAR</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Remus.</strong>
</p><p>Remus remembered the first time Sirius Black had fully seen his bare body, all wiry limbs and skinny chest, covered head to toe in scars he so desperately hated. They’d been at Sirius’s, locked in his chaotic room of pure him - usually Remus kept his trousers on where he could, his top remaining most of the time. Sirius had seen his chest before, in the pub, that one evening. But this was different.</p><p>Sirius had been pawing at his clothes, tugging them, his already off. Sirius was perpetually unashamed of his body, and why should he be? It was <em>perfect,</em> at least to Remus: every tattoo and line shuddering to life under the gentle caress of his hands. Sirius had gone to pull Remus’s shirt off, and Remus had stopped, and flinched, involuntarily. Sirius sat back on the bed, cocking his head to one side, a curious look on his face, chewing his lip.</p><p>“Are you alright?” he said, eyebrows knitting together. He didn’t even look that <em>bothered</em>, more like Remus was a funny little zoo animal who hadn’t finished his trick.</p><p>Remus hunched his shoulders over. “Fine,” he mumbled.</p><p>Sirius shifted closer to him then, taking his chin in his hands, fingers so feverishly hot against Remus’s cool skin. He tilted Remus’s face up to his, raised on his knees, looking down at him, and descended into a kiss that left Remus so weakly dizzy he was glad he was on the bed. When Sirius pulled away, he took the sides of Remus’s head in both his hands.</p><p>“I think you’re fucking beautiful,” he’d whispered, and that did it. Everything in Remus seemed to unravel, seams splintering and splitting apart as everything fell forth, and then he was bare, chest open, visible, and he’d hated and loved every second of it. He’d become so ashamed of his scars, so disgusted every time he looked in the mirror, part of him still waiting he could wake up from this nightmare, praying it was just a dream, and yet there was <em>Sirius fucking Black</em> fastening his mouth to each one. It looked like he was <em>whispering</em> to them, murmuring words to the ragged flesh. They’d lay together afterwards, Sirius’s black hair nestled in Remus’s gaunt collarbone.</p><p>“What were you saying? Earlier?” Remus asked softly, tracing the shape of a tattoo on Sirius’s pale shoulder. Sirius looked up at him.</p><p>“When?” he murmured in reply.</p><p>“When you were kissing me. Kissing my sc-” the words died in his mouth. He couldn’t say it, because then it would make them real. It would mean that every shimmer of silver skin that framed his entire body, fuck, his entire <em>life</em> would be real, and not just some gasping nightmare, a terror of the night that fastened itself around his heart, burrowed into his bones and lived inside him.</p><p>“Your scars?” Sirius had said softly, and Remus looked down at him again. He felt the hot burn of Sirius’s electric hands on his, moving Remus’s fingers to his chest, pushing them against the crescent shaped scar that lived under his pectoral, nestled in the crook of muscle, slightly hidden by a tattoo of a dog howling at the moon.</p><p>“Yeah,” Remus breathed back, transfixed, utterly absorbed, by the fucking <em>deepness</em> of Sirius’s gaze, the way his eyes just sunk into him with a piercing blue knife. </p><p>Maybe if he looked hard enough, he’d see the nightmare. Maybe he could help Remus wake up.“Yeah,” he said, tracing Sirius’s scar. “What were you saying?”</p><p>“It’s a secret,” Sirius mumbled against his lips, and then sat up, already pulling his clothes back on. He turned, all ideas and visages of intimacy and tenderness vanishing completely, wicked glint and unbothered smirk returning once more to his angular face.</p><p>As he watched him leave, laying disrobed and vulnerable on the sagging bed, the imprint of Sirius’s feverishly flush shape still dented into the mattress beside him, he lit a cigarette and sighed. <em>Maybe he didn’t need to wake up,</em> he thought, <em>if the dream was like this. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> Sirius </strong>
</p><p>“Remus?” Sirius croaked softly into the phone. He was half asleep, having been stupidly dazing on the sofa. At least the flat was empty. “What’s up?”</p><p>Remus’s voice was low. It sounded thick, as if with tears. “I can’t come tonight. I’m - <em>fuck</em> - I’m busy,” he gasped down the reciever.</p><p>“Oh.” Sirius didn’t know what to say. Remus was supposed to come over for a takeout tonight. Sirius would never admit this to anyone for as long as he lived, but he’d been <em>really fucking looking forward to it.</em> He loved the warm softness of Remus’s jumpers, the smell of smoke and salt on him always. Suddenly the night felt very grey. </p><p>“Why?”</p><p>He could practically hear Remus gritting his teeth. “Something’s come up, I - <em>shit</em>-” Remus groaned, still breathless.</p><p>“Remus, are you alright?” Sirius worried at his lip with his teeth, pulling the skin taught. It stung, but the pain was enough to ground him. His stomach bubbled in discomfort.</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” Remus said, a little too strongly, and Sirius hung up without another word. So that was that. God, surely his company couldn’t be that bad? His stomach bubbled in fury, and his skin itched.</p><p>
  <em>I’ve half a mind to go there right now, Remus John Lupin, and-</em>
</p><p>Sirius stopped himself. What was he <em>doing?</em> This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, at all. He <em>needed</em> Remus, needed his voice and hands and shape, and if they couldn’t be together, if they were both too fractuous and closed off and <em>fucking sad</em> then this would have to be enough. The stolen kisses and secret smiles, the pinkies intertwined and the legs under the table, the drunken nights and tangled sheets. <em>This,</em> or whatever you could call what they’d been doing for the past 4 months, would <em>have to be enough.</em></p><p>But why does he need someone else? Sirius thought bitterly. Is it me? Am I not worth it?</p><p><em>He may be enough for you, Sirius, </em> the cloying voice in the back of his head teased. <em> But you will never be enough for him.</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Remus.</strong>
</p><p>Remus stared dumbly at the phone, blinking with the words ‘Padfoot’ and ‘CALL ENDED’.</p><p><em>Well,</em> he thought to himself. <em>That was painfully easy.</em></p><p>Trying desperately to grit his teeth through the shuddering lurches of pain that washed over his body, Remus scrambled in his bed, clawing for the pills he’d dropped in the duvet while on the phone to Sirius. He found them, and shoved them into his mouth, swallowing them dry. Remus buried his head into the pillow, feeling a small tear leak from the corner of his eye.</p><p>
  <em>You can make it up to Sirius next time.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> Sirius </strong>
</p><p>Sirius glanced  glumly at his phone, the flashing screen blaring ‘Moony’ and ‘INCOMING CALL’. He sighed, clicking accept, and raised the phone to his ear. Still buttoning up his shirt and glancing in the mirror, he spoke.</p><p>“Remus?”</p><p>“Sirius, hey,” the voice sounded, and Sirius groaned inwardly. He <em>knew</em> that voice. He’d heard it a few times over the passing months. It was Remus’s cancellation<br/>
voice, and it did nothing to help Sirius’s mind. “I’m not going to be able to-”</p><p>“Make it tonight?” Sirius sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face, glad he hadn’t applied eyeliner yet. “That’s fine, Moony.”</p><p>“It is?” Remus’s voice was quiet, a little strained. He probably didn’t want whoever he was fucking to hear him on the phone to Sirius.</p><p>“No problem,” Sirius did his best to interject casualness into his tone, but the face that stared back at him in the mirror, bitten lips and dark circles, face twisted in disappointment, said otherwise. “See you later.” He clicked the phone off, and tossed it at the bed.</p><p>“Padfoot!” James’s sing-song voice came from the hallway and Sirius opened the door, eyebrows raised.</p><p>“What?” he snapped. He felt guilty immediately, but his veins were crackling with frustration. Surely he wasn’t <em>that</em> bad? Remus seemed to be cancelling far more than Sirius ever did.</p><p>“Ooh, what’s got your knickers in a twist?” James teased, ruffling Sirius’s hair, who ducked away, smacking his hand.</p><p>“Remus cancelled.”</p><p>James looked puzzled. “Yeah, I figured he would. Kingsley said he’s not been well. Bit under the weather.”</p><p>“Oh.” Sirius’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and his cheeks grew hot. “Oh.”</p><p>James snorted. “Lovesick prat,” he scoffed, bounding back down the hallway. “We’re leaving in ten!”</p><p>Sirius didn’t go with them, in the end. He wasn’t quite sure what he <em>was</em> doing, but he found himself on his bike, backpack full of soup and tissues and crappy movies. War was raging inside of him, half screaming to turn back, you’ll scare him off, this <em>isn’t what hookups do</em>, but the other half pushed back, and pushed back hard. </p><p>
  <em>This is what friends do.</em>
</p><p>He pulled up to Remus’s apartment block, swinging his leather clad legs over the side of the bike, looking up to Remus’s apartment. The light in the living room was on, warm ochre, the colour of Remus, seeping into the dim London street. Sirius squinted, and realised he could see Remus’s silhouette, his <em>perfect silhouette</em> framed against the light. And it was him, alright, delicate straight nose and hollow cheekbones.</p><p>With a dull clunk in his stomach, he saw the other silhouette.</p><p><em>Well,</em>he thought to himself, turning the bike around, feeling tears prick his eyes, as much as he wished they didn’t. <em>That’s that.</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Remus</strong>
</p><p>“Thank you, Poppy,” Remus croaked, wet flannel on his head, skin burning uncharacteristically hot with the agonizing roar of pain in his joints. Poppy Pomfrey patted his hand. </p><p>“It’s okay, love,” she said softly, but her kind face was twisted in concern. Remus stared at her with his open eye. This was so <em>typically</em> Poppy, always worrying and fretting, never just <em>saying</em> what she thought, walking around Remus like he was made of glass.</p><p>“What?” he groaned.</p><p>“I’m worried, Remus,” she said, bustling about, packing up her med kit. “You don’t seem to have a <em>support system</em>.”</p><p>“I have you,” Remus pointed out dryly, and she shook her head.</p><p>“I mean other than me. What about this Sirius?” she pressed, and Remus waved her off. </p><p>“He’s no one,” he said, lying through his teeth, and he could’ve sworn he heard the faint sound of a motorbike pulling up outside. <em>You stupid lovesick prat,</em> he chided.</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” Remus insisted, slogging through the thickness of deceit. “Poppy, I promise I’ll call you tomorrow, but I’m tired. I want to sleep.”</p><p>Poppy nodded, but paused in the doorway. “Is he really no one, Remus?” she said, so quiet and sad that Remus thought he might’ve imagined it.</p><p>“Yes. He’s no one,” Remus affirmed, and he could’ve sworn his heart had never hurt more. Everything in his body seemed to protest, each square inch of skin screaming <em>liar,liar,liar.</em></p><p> When the door clicked softly shut, he hobbled over to the window, grimacing at the shooting ache throughout his body. He peered down at the dim, grey street below, hoping, maybe, that he’d have heard right, and Sirius’s motorbike would be parked outside. But it wasn’t. The street was cold, basked in pale moonlight, dark and shrouded.</p><p>Who was Remus Lupin, if not a fan of wishful thinking?</p><p>He lowered back down onto the sofa, whimpering in pain.</p><p>
  <em>He’s really not no one.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Remus</strong>
</p><p>Sirius was drunk. Then again, he usually was. </p><p>Remus scolded himself. He should’ve known, but he was stupid and tired and in no mood for any problems. So when the texts had littered in from Sirius -</p><p>(21:45) come over<br/>
(21:45) flat’s empt ;)<br/>
(21:46) prongs won be back forra while<br/>
(21:46) moonyyy x</p><p>- he’d grinned, thumbed a response, and been out of the door in seconds, only just catching a taxi outside his apartment. </p><p> He’d let himself in, and Sirius had barrelled into him almost instantly, hot shape pressed against his, hands already feverishly tugging him, crooning his name. That was when he smelt it. The wine, and the cigarettes.</p><p>“Moony!” Sirius slurred, brandishing an empty bottle, a still smoking cigarette in his hand. Remus opened his mouth to say something, but Sirius dragged him through to their kitchenette, banging cupboards open. Remus’s heart sank.</p><p>  “What do you want to drink, Remu?” Sirius sang, words still thick with inebriation. He opened the sixth cupboard. </p><p>“I thought I had some more Sapphire in here but I guess I must’ve … I suppose I drunk it…”</p><p> Remus felt sick, and he stepped forward, hands reaching out, just wanting to <em>hold</em> Sirius, take it all away. His heart stammered weakly in his ribcage. What was he doing? Too much, too affectionate, too fucking <em>tender.</em> But he couldn’t help it, God he couldn’t help it. He so unbelievably and irrefutably cared for Sirius Black, and now he found himself in his dark kitchen at 10 o’clock in the night, while Sirius, fucked beyond belief, flung open all empty spaces in the kitchen, desperately searching for a drink.</p><p>Sirius hadn’t noticed Remus shifting uncomfortably, and now he was rummaging through drawers.</p><p>“Stupid Prongs,” he muttered to himself, and, moving as if Remus were a ghost, stumbled through to the living room, rummaging around behind one of the cabinets.</p><p>“Ah-Hah!” he exclaimed, jumping up with a full bottle of some dark gin liqueur. “Thinks he’s slick.”</p><p>“Sirius,” Remus breathed, everything crashing down on him. Sirius’s drunkenness, his <em>perpetual drunkenness</em>, the fact James was <em>hiding</em> alcohol in the apartment, and the small idea that maybe he just wasn’t good enough for Sirius sober.</p><p>“Ooh, straight to it, I like your style,” Sirius dripped lavishly, setting the bottle down, swaying. His eyes were dark. “Come on then, Moony, to the bedroom!” He reached for Remus’s hand, but Remus pulled away.</p><p>“Are you upset with me Moony?” Sirius pouted, a petulant whine in his voice. “You can have your drink if you want it, Jesus,” he turned back and seized the gin, and Remus, throat tight, was helpless to say or do anything. Sirius poured Remus a glass, hands trembling. Remus wanted to reach out and hold them until they became still and never shook again.</p><p>“There,” Sirius rolled his eyes and shoved the cup into Remus’s hand, which he set down wordlessly. Sirius bounded up to him and grabbed his collar, pulling him in for a kiss. Remus craned his head back to dodge his lips, and Sirius’s grip went slack.</p><p>“You’re drunk, Sirius,” he whispered, and Sirius let go, eyebrows raised.</p><p>“I’ve had a few shots, that’s <em>it</em>,” he sighed, exasperated. “I’m <em>fine.</em>”</p><p>Remus Lupin was many things, but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d seen it since day one, since the night in Dorcas’s apartment. How <em>tired</em> Sirius looked, <em>all the time</em>, the purple round his eyes as permanent as the picture book tattoos that littered his pale body. He could see it now, see how bone-tired the man was, and his stomach clenched seeing Sirius, strong, whirlwind, electric Sirius, swaying on his feet, bottle still in hand, eyes glassy with drink and so, so sad.</p><p>“<em>Sirius,</em>” Remus was over in a flash, before he’d even realised what he was doing, holding the other man’s face in his hands. “Come on. Talk to me. Let’s get you sobered up, okay, and then-”</p><p>Sirius pushed him off, and Remus, shocked, tripped backwards. The lulling tide shivered, turned to ice, and cracked.</p><p>“Sirius-” he started, but Sirius cut him off.</p><p>“Go home, Moony,” he mumbled, usually piercing voice heavy and ladened with his sins and mistakes. “Just go home now.”</p><p>“Padfoot-”</p><p>“If you’re not here to shag me, just <em>fuck off,”</em> Sirius hissed, and Remus jumped at the venom in his voice.</p><p>“Wow.”</p><p>Sirius slammed the bottle down on the table behind him, blue eyes turning a dull, gunmetal grey. The air shimmered and crackled, hissing in a cruel synchronicity with the feeble pattering of Remus’s heart.</p><p>“Get out.”</p><p>Remus didn’t know how long the two of them stood there, but he knew it ended with the raucous sound of Sirius’s flatmates coming in. Sirius gritted his teeth.</p><p>“Now you’ve done it.”</p><p>Remus picked up his jacket without another word, and left.</p><p> </p><p>When he woke up in the morning, he saw the text.</p><p>(03:35) Sorry.</p><p>He sighed.</p><p>
  <strong>(09:24) It’s okay Pads.</strong>
</p><p>That would have to be enough. As he heaved his creaking joints out of bed, faintly remembering last night, he hoped that it would be the last time.</p><p>But who was Remus Lupin, if not a fan of wishful thinking?</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> Remus. </strong>
</p><p>
  <em> NOVEMBER 1ST </em>
</p><p>Sirius was painting, too deep within the dancing fairy groves of his chaos tinged mind to pay much attention to anything else, and Remus adored it. It was November, the room basked in autumn sun, and Sirius was leaning forward, sat cross legged on the floor, hair tied up in a paintbrush, strands falling across his face. Remus’s heart ached as Sirius blew them impatiently away.</p><p>Remus traced his finger on the rim of his teacup, single ring gently tapping against the ceramic, a still smoking cigarette in his other hand. As he inhaled the smoke, wishing more than anything that he could breath in the oxygen of Sirius, of Sirius being irrevocably <em>his</em>, he sipped his tea and tapped his foot, and watched.</p><p>And as he watched, he thought,</p><p> </p><p> <em>this will never be enough. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Lady Stardust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PLEASE READ!!!!!!!!!<br/>y'all better be listening to the songs i put while you read because i listen while writing so like... it's the experience!!<br/>yes yes, wow kitchenr011, you are an absolute angelic legend for uploading this many chapters at once. i had already planned to upload them in quick succession of one another, because i think it will benefit the way you're reading them. but feel free to SHOWER me in kudos if you so wish ;)<br/>CW: scars, chronic pain.<br/>song is lady stardust, how remus sees sirius :')</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em><br/>People stared at the makeup on his face,<br/>Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace,<br/>The boy in the bright blue jeans,<br/>Jumped up on the stage,<br/>Lady Stardust sang his songs<br/>Of darkness and disgrace.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And he was alright, the band was altogether,<br/>Yes, he was alright, the song went on forever,<br/>Yes, he was awful nice,<br/>Really quite out of sight,<br/>And he sang all night long.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Femme fatales emerged from shadows,<br/>To watch this creature fair,<br/>Boys stood upon their chairs,<br/>To make their point of view.<br/>I smiled sadly for a love,<br/>I could not obey.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lady Stardust sang his songs,<br/>Of darkness and dismay.<br/>And he was alright, the band was altogether.<br/>Yes, he was alright, his song went on forever. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Remus rubbed his eyes, cracked ceiling flashing in and out of view. He groaned, pulling his creaking body out of bed, swinging his disgracefully long legs over the side and wincing at the cold contact of the floorboards. Everything hurt: all his joints complained, tendons and muscles spasmodically stiff, head wincing as a pain throbbed at his temple. </p><p>He tapped his phone, smiling at a text from Sirius.</p><p>	(00:01) I’m 23, bitch!!!</p><p>He shakily typed out a reply, tremors rattling through his bony fingers.</p><p>	(07:53) That you are, dickface :)</p><p>Remus raised himself off the bed, padding through to his small bathroom, stepping under the warm water and letting it run around his sore body. He hissed as the hot flow hit his stinging skin, but the smooth heat relaxed his muscles. Painfully, he scrubbed shampoo through his hair, determined to battle through the discomfort.</p><p>This was Sirius’s day.</p><p>And he loved him.</p><p>He couldn’t quite pin out when it had happened over the year they’d known each other, but one summer day he’d woken up from a dream, screeching sounds and the smell of smoke and blood still stuck in his nervous system, and seen Sirius leaning back on the chair in the corner of the room. He’d faintly wondered why Sirius wasn’t asleep. Then again, he didn’t seem to do it much. Remus was still - he never moved much in his dreams, and he watched Sirius, brows knitted together as he thumbed Remus’s favourite copy of the Odyssey, puffing on a cigarette, unaware of Remus’s gaze. He was so beautiful it hurt, sometimes. Remus had sort of realised it then, realised what that feeling that had been bubbling in his stomach for a really, really long time was. </p><p>It was love.</p><p> </p><p>Uncorking the bottle of prescription pain meds, Remus took a couple - never more than the recommended dose - coughing slightly as they slid down his throat. He grimaced, pushing them down, and shook his hair out. Everything hurt, and he prayed that the meds would kick in soon. </p><p>He’d managed to hide it from Sirius really well, his illness, which surprised him. Sirius seemed like the chatty type - so when Remus randomly cancelled, hushed over the phone or brisk over a text, barely even able to remember his own name through the blinding scrape of pain against his insides, Sirius was surprisingly okay, unbothered.</p><p>It hurt, Remus knew that. He was in touch with his emotions, as much as that bothered him. As much as he wished he wasn’t. But what could he do? He was a fucking <em>mess</em> - and Sirius didn’t need that. Hell, no one needed that. And Sirius wasn’t bothered. Sirius didn’t want a relationship. Sirius, with his stupid gut-wrenching smile and frustratingly good teeth. Sirius, with his fucking incredible blue eyes, that were always densely covered in black eyeliner or smudged red eyeshadow, so piercing and bright that it cut right to Remus’s core, leaving him shudderingly breathless. Sirius, with his marble cheekbones and intense jawline, with his soft artist’s hands and hushed voice, with his lips that pressed firm and insistent, raw and -</p><p>
  <em>Focus, Remus.</em>
</p><p>Sirius didn’t care about him. And why should he? Remus was just a hookup to him. A body. Someone to hold during the night.</p><p>A place to rest his head.</p><p> </p><p>Remus took a deep breath in, already hearing the squealing voices of Sirius and his flatmates through the door. He could still remember the first day he’d seen Sirius, the gut wrenching <em>punch</em> as he saw the fucking work of art in front of him, blue eyes dark with a seething glare, hands spattered in paint. How he’d <em>very nearly kissed him</em> that night at the Three Broomsticks, backing out at the last second, and the way his heart fucking fell when Sirius started flirting with barmaids.</p><p>Then soared again when he’d told him he was gay.</p><p>Remus knocked on the door before he could change his mind, adjusting the bag with Sirius’s present in. It was a Bowie record, although not what he’d really wanted to give Sirius. But that didn’t matter now.</p><p>Sirius flung the door open, mouth full of food, and Remus’s stomach clenched the same way it did every time he saw him, saw his midnight blue eyes ringed with dark makeup and even darker circles, deep purple bruising under his eyes. Remus, breathless, and wincing at the pain still complaining through his joints, was helpless to do anything but smile.</p><p>“Hey,” he said, unable to stop the grin that travelled off his face as he looked down at Sirius. God, he was so fucking <em>beautiful</em> that it hurt, and it took everything in him not to launch himself at the black-haired boy and kiss him senseless. That, and the fact that he was still so weak, pain meds not kicking in yet, that he’d probably collapse before he reached him.</p><p>“Hey, ‘Emush!” Sirius spoke, stepping aside and closing the door behind him. Remus stepped through the flat, unable to help the jealous surge that came every time he moved through the Potter’s place, and was met with a scrunched up piece of wrapping paper to the face. James Potter, Sirius’s best friend, grinned up at him, hazel eyes wicked under his coke-bottle glasses.</p><p>“Sorry Remus lad!” James laughed, and Remus smiled faintly. He loved James’s Liverpudlian accent. It made everything funnier. “Thought you were Sirius.”</p><p>Remus grinned, bemused. “Could see the confusion,” he nodded. He sensed Sirius moving around him to reach an armchair, and his body practically hummed with the closeness of the two. He’d never wanted to reach out and just <em>hold</em> someone so much. He turned to look at Sirius, and the image on his face knocked the breath out of him with a fell swoop. Sirius looked dark- almost sombre, watching the laughed exchange between Remus and James.</p><p><em>Of course he does, Remus.</em> He chastised himself. <em>Neither of you can do a relationship. And yet here you are, on his birthday, giving him a present. Pathetic. </em></p><p>Instead he just shook out his curls, smiling. He handed Sirius his present and sat down on the sofa, bones creaking. He tried desperately to nuzzle into his cable-knit, hoping the softness of the fabric would be some welcome reprieve to his agonizing joints.</p><p>It wasn’t.</p><p>Sirius held up ‘The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders From Mars’, excitedly showing James, and Remus sat back, happy to look at him. He loved the way Sirius’s face lit up when he was talking to James, or Lily, so animated and beautiful, full of life and fizzing energy, when it usually looked so hollow and tired.</p><p>“Now we match,” Remus ducked his head, trying to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks, and before he knew it, Sirius had bounded over, pulling him into a crushing hug. He smelt like Sirius, like midnight and mint and coffee, and the whole sensation of him just enveloped Remus. Sirius buried his face in his collarbone, and Remus pulled him tight, ignoring the screaming pain in his limbs, just happy to have Sirius there, with him. Every time he hugged or kissed him it was like the first time <em>all over again</em>, and all the times after that, like the cold nights spent tangled in the sheets or the bruising embrace in the club so long ago.</p><p>“Hey, you,” he murmured against Sirius’s hair, tasting the apple shampoo, and then he was gone, as quick as he had first appeared, ordering James to spin the record, and Remus, dazed, watched as Sirius reanimated like nothing had happened.</p><p>Like Remus wasn’t there.</p><p> </p><p>Everything hurt. Remus grimaced in pain inside the Potter’s bathroom, trying desperately to stretch his limbs out, hoping it would bring a basking sense of stillness. </p><p>It didn’t, and, taking a couple more pills, he fumbled in his pockets for his tin of cigarettes. They weren’t there, and he groaned, rubbing his eyes. They must be in Sirius’s room, from earlier.</p><p>“Oi, Padfoot,” he called, barging into the room.</p><p>Sirius turned, and Remus sucked in a breath, familiar electricity of seeing Sirius shuddering through his heart. Sirius was stood, black hair clinging to his wet skin, dripping onto the floor, his tattoos <em>so fucking beautiful</em>.</p><p>“Shit! Sorry!”</p><p>Sirius snorted. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, Moony.”</p><p>Remus paused. They <em>never</em> talked about the nature of their relationship - it was just something they did. Like breathing. God, just like breathing.</p><p>Remus smiled, brushing it off, scolding himself for such sentimentality. Sirius wasn’t his oxygen. No one was his oxygen. He didn’t <em>need</em> Sirius, just like Sirius didn’t need him. It was sex, nothing more. And he was fine with that.</p><p>
  <em>Liar.</em>
</p><p>He sauntered over, trying desperately to create a mimicry of Sirius’s devil-may-care attitude, and picked up his favourite shirt of Sirius’s, the burgundy one. He helped him put it on, and just the way Sirius glinted in the lamp-light, razor sharp cheekbones and full mouth, deep blue eyes and angular body, made Remus feel dizzy.</p><p>“You look so fucking good in burgundy,” he smirked, thinking that Sirius looked good in <em>anything</em>, and pressed a kiss to his lips. God, the way Sirius kissed was like a fucking epiphany to Remus - raw, and desperate, and hot, so feverishly warm all the time, like Sirius was constantly vibrating and shuddering on some different fucking plane and Remus was <em>helpless</em> to reach him, could only stand, cold and bare, watching from below. He pulled away, Sirius chasing his lips, and he couldn’t help but feel smug.</p><p>
  <em>I did that.</em>
</p><p>Lady Stardust was faintly playing as he shut the door behind him, and he rested his head against the wood, still breathing in Sirius, just <em>drinking</em> him in, consuming him, wishing he could inhale im and hold him in his lungs forever.</p><p>
  <em>It’s just sex.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>People stared at the makeup on his face<br/>Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace<br/>The boy in the bright blue jeans<br/>Jumped up on the stage<br/>Lady Stardust sang his songs<br/>Of darkness and disgrace</em>
</p><p>Remus glared pointedly at the knowing record player, and swallowed the pain stinging in his body. The only thing he could really breathe in and keep forever.</p><p> </p><p>They were laid together in Sirius’s bed, not an inch of space between them, Sirius’s soft black curls draped across Remus’s silver chest. It was one of the only times he could bring himself to look at his skin, when Sirius was sprawled across it. Remus felt content, complete, and the truth just rang in his ears over and over and over again, assaulting him with deep blue eyes and that Sirius Black grin.</p><p>Three syllables that Remus would hold under his tongue until the sun, <em>his</em> sun, his Sirius, exploded.</p><p>
  <em>I love you, I love you, I love you, my beloved, my lover, my one-</em>
</p><p>“Fy nghariad,” he whispered against Sirius’s hair, before he’d even registered his whirling thoughts spilling over and out from his kiss drunk lips, slipping into Welsh.</p><p>
  <em>My love.</em>
</p><p>“What does that mean?” Sirius asked, dragging his delicate artist’s fingers, guitar and paintbrush callouses barely denting the slender, pale skin, along Remus’s scar tissue. He shivered under his touch, but he could do nothing but fall backwards into it, let the whirlwind, the storm, the grey cloud of Sirius and his insistent touch carry him.</p><p>“It means idiot,” he lied, nuzzling against the soft locs in front of him, wishing they would take him away, far away, from the stinging, bitter tide of emotion and love, of love unreturned.</p><p>
  <em>Stupid, love sick idiot.</em>
</p><p>Sirius laughed against his chest, still lazily trailing his fingers over the puckered flesh spanning Remus’s form. The warmth of his laugh, just the movement and sound of his voice against Remus’s skin caused his heart to throb so painfully he thought his chest may shatter. His skin felt <em>alive</em> for the first time in a long, long time, and those sharp cheekbones and wicked laugh and slim wrists had done it, they’d breathed life, stories, back through into the pallid, dead skin, of a life, a time, that Remus so detested. Sirius made him live again.</p><p>“Tired,” Sirius murmured.</p><p>
  <em>I know, fy nghariad. I know.</em>
</p><p>“Then sleep.”</p><p>And as the two of them, two thin men, so broken and unstitched, unravelling threads, held one another through the night, they pulled the other down into fitful slumber. Two men, broken, and broken together.</p><p>Remus dozed lightly that evening, fluttering in and out of the brink of consciousness, nightmares on his tongue, but never fully fledged, because he had Sirius in his arms. </p><p>
  <em>Ti yw fy nghariad.</em>
</p><p>Maybe, he reflected, it would’ve been better if he’d slept through the whole night.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. It's Not Real</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PLZ READ :)!!</p><p>HERE YOU GO YOU SICK BASTARDS!<br/>bit of a shorter one, my apologies.<br/>CW: nightmares, blood, allusion to domestic abuse and physical violence.<br/>i've realised adding things in other languages without any indication can be sort of difficult for people. so: Fy nghariad (last chapter) is welsh for my love, and ti yw fy nghariad is you are my love.<br/>yaar is a hindi term of endearment, meaning best friend.<br/>song is starry eyes by cigarettes after sex. and yes, the band name is scarily accurate for these two idiots.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>When I'm alone I hear and feel you,<br/>
Wish that I could reach right out and touch you,<br/>
But knowing you're the one to greet me, and meet me,<br/>
Two alone in the dark, may it be.<br/>
Starry eyes,<br/>
The sparks will fall on me.<br/>
Starry eyes,<br/>
Won't you listen that I'm here being,<br/>
For you, starry eyes,<br/>
Starry eyes forever,<br/>
Shall be mine.</em>
</p><p>Sirius jerked awake, strangled cry still dying on his lips, throat raw from screams. Walburga’s voice ricocheted in his ear, as he looked around, trying to digest his surroundings. It was dark, too dark, and she’d be back. She’d be back any minute.</p><p>A shape moved next to him and his heart plummeted, a raw terror clambering up his spine. This was it, this was now, it was happening. It was real, this time. It was real, they’d gotten out of the dream - or maybe it had never been a dream - but they were here, and he couldn’t breathe, and-</p><p>-there was a hand on his arm. A cold hand, and it clutched him, where his mother’s fingernails had cut crescents of blood only moments before. His skin burned with the contact, feeling hands <em>all over him.</em> Every inch of his skin had cruel fingers roaming on, the sting and hiss of his mother’s fingernails everywhere, drawing blood.</p><p>“Sirius?” the sleepy voice mumbled next to him, and he gasped in fear, the proximity of the warm shape next to him all too claustrophobic.</p><p>“Don’t <em>fucking</em>touch me!” He cried out, shoving the arm back with all the strength his trembling, bone-tired body could manage. He scrambled out of bed, away from the assailant, sheets still plastered like glue to his sweat-sheened body, like fingers, claws, clutching at him and tangling his limbs. He fell to the floor with a thud, pain crackling across his spine, white stars in his vision, but still he skittered back, back to the corner, desperate; needing to escape.</p><p>“Sirius?” the voice pressed, and a sob escaped his mouth, tearing through his bitten lips. He must have been chewing them, because they were raw, and he felt one split. It hurt. Everything hurt.</p><p>“Sirius, what’s going on?” A face swam into view, and he thought he recognised it, but the black spots of fear plagued his vision and the walls were close, too close. The cracked plaster and poster-laden paint leered at him, pressing dangerously close, and he gasped for air, feeling his lungs close up.</p><p>“<em>Padfoot,</em>” a hand reached towards him and he jerked back, terrified, head smacking against the wall behind him, a stinging laceration of pain skittering through his skull.</p><p>“Don’t hurt me, <em>please,</em>” he sobbed, head still throbbing from the contact. His whole body shuddered with cries, and she was here, she <em>had</em> to be. Who else would be clutching and reaching for him at this time of night? She was <em>there</em>, she was always there, <em> he would never be free of her</em>, and Sirius’s body trembled. He clawed out blindly at the thick midnight fog in front of him.</p><p>“I- I’m not going to <em>hurt</em> you, Padfoot-” the voice cracked, but Sirius wasn’t stupid. She was a liar. She’d always been a liar.</p><p>Through the dim and trickling darkness he saw the shape move away and he sighted his escape, stumbling for the door, still half crawling, and flung it open, careening down the hallway. He hissed in pain as his shoulder smacked into the wall, and the floorboards were cold. So cold. As cold as they had been all those years ago, as he fled down them, just like he was doing now, paralysing ice capturing his feet as he tripped away from his parents.</p><p>He was in a kitchen, he dimly registered, but he could hear running feet behind him, and <em>fuck,</em> his blood ran so cold he thought he would die, thought his heart would stop right there and then. Maybe it would’ve been easier if it did. Sirius whimpered, nearly two decades of terror clawing up his throat, how strongly he craved release from them clutching his chest and burrowing deep in every bone, every single part of them.</p><p>“<em>Sirius!</em>” the voice said, echoing on his brain, and he stumbled back, clawing out for something to defend himself. His hand closed on a wine bottle, and he flung it up. The cold glass slipped in his clammy palms, his trembling fingers barely keeping grip on the heavy shape.</p><p>“Don’t come any <em>fucking</em> closer,” he snarled, waving the bottle at the<br/>
intruder. He needed help. Where was everyone? Where was Reg? Where was James? Where was <em>Remus</em>?</p><p>“Sirius,” the voice sounded pleading, as if thick with tears, “you’re scaring me.”</p><p>“Remus,” Sirius called out, desperate, voice a hollow cry. Remus could come, Remus could help. “Remus!”</p><p>The shape moved forward again, and Sirius jerked back, cold kitchen floor too slippery, too smooth, and he fell, wine bottle shattering on the floor. He desperately pushed back, up against the fridge, cold metal digging into his back, but he kept pushing, legs sliding, needing to get as far away from her as possible.</p><p>“Remus? What are you doing here- What the fuck’s going- Oh, <em>Pads</em>,” another voice sounded, and Sirius flinched, bloodied hands coming up to cover his face.</p><p>“Padfoot,” the other voice said softly, and the crunch of glass was audible in Sirius’s ringing ears as the owner moved closer to him. Sirius shut his eyes, preparing for the impact, ready to feel the wounding gasp of a clenched fist against the side of his head. He whimpered again, like a cornered animal.</p><p>“Hey, Padfoot,” the voice was gentle, familiar, but the grip of their hands on his shaking wrists made him cry out again. “Pads, it’s me.”</p><p>A face was in front of him, a face he <em>knew</em>, and it wasn’t Walburga’s, or Orion’s. Hazel eyes, a shock of black curls, and coke bottle glasses.</p><p>“Prongs?” Sirius whispered, voice raw from screaming. “P-please help, you have to get me out-”</p><p>Sirius tugged his wrists back, but James was firm, strong grip encircling them. Warm, and hard, solid, and <em>real</em>, not like the phantom clutch of his mother that he could still feel round his throat. Sirius was dimly aware of blood running down his hands, and glass shards pressing into him, stuck in his hands. Maybe that was why James wouldn’t let go.</p><p>“James, we need to leave-” he pleaded, voice barely a croak. The shape from before was still standing over there in the corner, all sagging and defeated shoulders, horror and sadness patterned across its joints.</p><p>“No, Pads, it’s okay,” James soothed, forcing Sirius to meet his eyes. “We’re home, okay? We’re not there, I promise.”</p><p>Sirius didn’t believe him, and shook his head, mutely, tears still streaming from his eyes. “James, please-”</p><p>“<em>Padfoot</em>,” the voice was firm. “We’re in our flat. I promise. It’s not real.”</p><p>“It’s not real?” Sirius whispered, barely believing him.</p><p>“It’s not real, I promise. You’re safe, okay? It was only a dream.”</p><p>“Just a dream?” Sirius repeated, searching the hazel eyes for even an inch of deceit.</p><p>“It was just a dream, yaar,” James affirmed, slowly letting go of his wrists. “I promise.”</p><p>“Prongs,” Sirius sobbed, all the fight seeping out of him, exhaustion and pain crashing through his body as the adrenaline trembled away. “I’m scared. I- You have to help-”</p><p>James swept him into a hug. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe, Pads.”</p><p>There were other voices now. A female one, and a male one.</p><p>
  <em>”Remus, you need to go home.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Lily, I can’t just <strong>leave</strong> him-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s the best thing you can do for him right now, Rem.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Lily, I-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“<strong>Remus.</strong> Go. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? This happens a lot. Please, just let us deal with it.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Tell him I’m sorry? Please?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh, Remus. It’s not your fault.” </em>
</p><p>Sirius could do nothing, though, as he sensed one body leave and the other begin to pick glass off the floor. All he could do was shiver in James’s arms, feel the warm strength of his best friend cocoon him, while the ghost of his mother’s scraping claws still howled along his flesh.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Wine Stains</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PLEASE READ!!!!!!!!</p><p>CW: alcoholism, injuries<br/>you said you wanted angst...<br/>i will make a comment at the end explaining the welsh for you my dears :)<br/>song is of course, work song by hozier. if you can't tell, hozier is giving the angst for this fic. but seriously, please read the lyrics. they feel chillingly accurate for this chapter. :')</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Boys workin' on an empty,<br/>
Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?<br/>
I just think about my baby,<br/>
I'm so full of love I could barely eat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There's nothing sweeter than my baby,<br/>
I'd never want once from the cherry tree,<br/>
'Cause my baby's sweet as can be,<br/>
She give me toothaches just from kissin' me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When my time comes around,<br/>
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth,<br/>
No grave can hold my body down,<br/>
I'll crawl home to her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Boys, when my baby found me,<br/>
I was three days on a drunken sin,<br/>
I woke with her walls around me,<br/>
Nothin' in her room but an empty crib.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And I was burnin' up a fever,<br/>
I didn't care much how long I lived,<br/>
But I swear I thought I dreamed her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She never asked me once about the wrong I did.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When my time comes around,<br/>
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth,<br/>
No grave can hold my body down,<br/>
I'll crawl home to her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My baby never fret none,<br/>
About what my hands and my body done.<br/>
If the Lord don't forgive me,<br/>
I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When I was kissing on my baby,<br/>
And she put her love down soft and sweet,<br/>
In the low lamp light I was free,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Heaven and hell were words to me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When my time comes around,<br/>
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth,<br/>
No grave can hold my body down,<br/>
I'll crawl home to her.<br/>
</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sirius’s hands were wrapped in bandages from the First Aid Kit, and he’d stayed on the sofa with James all night. James had slept, of course, snoozing gently, arm still protectively wrapped around Sirius, keeping him <em>here</em>, keeping him grounded in reality. Flat 13	A. London. Remus’s arms.</p><p>“I’m <em>fine</em>, James.”</p><p>Sirius Black decided he would never sleep again.</p><p>“Pads-”</p><p>“I feel fine. Brilliant, even. I’ve got shit to do today, and I need to-”</p><p>“Padfoot,” the voice was stern, and Sirius lifted his head, blinking back tears. James stared back at him, limbs still tight around Sirius’s, wrapping him in a hug. “You’re speaking in French, for fuck’s sake.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Sirius, simply. He did that, sometimes. Especially after the nightmares. It was like a part of his brain still sat in Grimmauld Place, in that cavernous attic bedroom or blood-spattered walls. The French came tumbling forth, like the iron grip on his throat was reminding him it would <em>never let go.</em></p><p><em>You are what we made you, Sirius,</em> Walburga whispered in his ear. <em>Toujours pur.</em></p><p>“Do you really not want to talk about it, bud?” James nudged, and Sirius shook his head vehemently. Last night wasn’t a nightmare out of the ordinary, but Remus being there. </p><p>He felt sick.</p><p>“I need a drink,” Sirius conceded, flopping off the sofa and trailing to the kitchen, James on his heels. He flung open the cupboard where they usually kept the alcohol, to find it threadbare empty.</p><p>“Prongs,” Sirius swivelled, rolling his eyes. “Where’s the booze?”</p><p>James shifted uncomfortably, hazel eyes downcast, and sighed. A low, deep, exhausted sigh, and Sirius’s stomach shifted sickeningly.</p><p>“Come on, Prongs, where’s the stuff?”</p><p>“Listen, Sirius, maybe it’s best if you lay off it for a while-”</p><p>“Oh not <em>this</em> again-” Sirius groaned, flinging his arms up, bandaged hands white in the green filled kitchen.</p><p>“Yes, <em>this</em> again,” James interrupted, exasperated. He pushed his wire-frame glasses up onto his head and ran a hand over his face. Sirius seethed. This really wasn’t what he needed right now. “Padfoot, you’re always drinking, like, whenever something goes wrong. Can’t you just stick it out?”</p><p>“God, when did you become such a <em>bore,</em> James?” Sirius snapped, back of his neck prickling. His hair seemed awfully close to his neck, strands itching the flesh there, and he tossed it impatiently.</p><p>“I’m <em>worried</em> about you, Padfoot,” James stepped forward, arm out. An arm that looked so much like the pale scarred one that had reached for him last night, and the one before that, the one with red fingernails. Sirius flinched back instinctively, and James let his limb fall. Sirius stared at him, and his stomach heaved.</p><p>
  <em>Pity.</em>
</p><p>“I can’t deal with this right now, Prongs,” Sirius shouldered past him, down the hallway, floorboards creaking under his cut feet. “I’m going for a shower.”</p><p>He firmly shut the door behind him, James’s face now permanently out of sight, and flicked the lock. He moved over to his bed, hopping round the messy room, and rummaged underneath it, pulling out a full bottle of rum. He grinned, and swivelled the cap off.</p><p> </p><p>“Prongs, <em>move</em>.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake, I still have a <em>job.</em>” Sirius stood with his bandaged hands on his hip, tapping his bruised foot impatiently. “Get out of my way before I make you.”</p><p>James scoffed, folding his broad arms over his chest. “I’d like to see you try.”</p><p>Sirius darted to the left, hoping to fool Prongs as it always had when they were kids, but James stepped in front of him, blocking him from his room. Sirius feigned right, but was foiled again. Left. Again.</p><p>“Jesus Christ, James,” Sirius whined, stomping his foot like a child. He didn’t usually whine, but he was tired, and he felt queasy. Really, really queasy.</p><p>And he had a job to do - quite literally. He had print sketches to drop off at a client’s apartment, some editorial shit for a pretentious magazine.</p><p>“James, I need to get to my art stuff.”</p><p>“Sirius, <em>look</em> at your hands,” James pleaded, voice taking on a softer tone. Sirius glanced down at his hands, his usually beautifully slender hands, pale and delicate, with slim wrists and even slender fingers, always spattered with a paint of some kind. Instead of his white skin, he saw bandages, and gauze, and raw, red skin peeking out through the gaps in the fabric. Tears pricked the back of his eyes.</p><p>He wanted his hands back.</p><p>Swallowing the tears, determined not to let James see him cry, he tossed his hair in his usual gallant fashion.</p><p>
  <em>You’re fine. You’re Sirius fucking Black.</em>
</p><p>“The sketches are done, I just need to drop them off.”</p><p>“So let me do it.”</p><p>“When?”</p><p>“When us three go to get the takeaway,” James shrugged, and Sirius groaned, turning on his heel and collapsing onto the sofa.</p><p>“I’m not leaving the flat.”</p><p>“You were ready to a minute ago-”</p><p>“For <em>work</em> James,” Sirius snapped, and then he gestured to the clothes he had on. “You think all this glamour pays for itself?”</p><p>James snorted, settling into the adjacent armchair, framed against the red cotton. He seemed to watch Sirius carefully, like he was an egg about to hatch.</p><p>Or be stood on.</p><p>Sirius turned the telly on, desperate to drown out the clang of his caged mind with nonsensical saturation, but as the hour wore on, he was still painfully aware of his best friend’s shape next to him, unmoving, observing. Sirius turned his head, and met his eyes.</p><p>“Don’t you have something better to do?” </p><p>James shrugged, shaking his head, black curls coming loose. “Nope.”</p><p>“I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Prongs,” Sirius sighed, rubbing his eyes, tracking stars across his vision. His head hurt, and he needed a drink.</p><p>“I didn’t say-”</p><p>“What, first you’re hiding the booze and now you’re watching me like a fucking bird of prey,” Sirius snapped. The whine of Love Island reruns in the background throbbed at his wincing temple.</p><p>“You know why I hid the booze.” James’s voice was quiet, and Sirius bubbled.</p><p>“I’m <em>23 years old</em>, Prongs, I’m allowed to get drunk sometimes.”</p><p>“But it’s not just sometimes, is it, Sirius?” James spoke softly, and Sirius, head complaining and stomach starting to heave, sat up and stormed off without another word, already bored of the conversation, soft sounds of his bandaged feet woefully sharp in the grey flat.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius pulled the bag of prints onto his shoulder, gripping the metal flask in his hands, thumbing through the Uber app to call for a ride. He took a sip from the aluminum, grimacing a bit, and ordered a car to take him to the other end of London. <em>Demanding magazine twats.</em></p><p>He’d managed to convince James and Lily to go for takeout without him, saying he could take the prints tomorrow. He felt a little bit bad for the deceit, but half of him wanted to pay them back for being so fussy and pitiful, everything he hated.</p><p>A knock came softly at the door, and Sirius’s brain, still whirring and clicking like an overwhelmed hard drive, barely noticed it as he pulled open the door to make his way down the complex’s stairs. Last night still played on his mind, black fog settling in his axon fibres and crackling at the name of his neck. So when he looked up and saw the face from the dream - <em>not a dream, just a mistake</em> - stared back at him, he jumped backwards, breath catching in his throat.</p><p>“Uh- hey! Remus!” Sirius stammered, shoving the flask into his pocket and hiking the bag up his shoulders. Dread settled into the pit of his stomach.</p><p>“Sirius,” Remus smiled, and Sirius felt that familiar warmth that always flooded his solar plexus every time Remus’s slim face cracked into a grin. Remus was holding two Beats &amp; Beans coffee cups, and he held a steaming one out to Sirius. Sirius took it wordlessly, and sipped it, never one to turn down caffeine.</p><p>“Uh- how, um, how are you?” Remus asked, still stood in the doorway, an indescribable look flitting across his face.</p><p><em>Clunk.</em> The cloud of dread that had been descending settled like stone, and Sirius felt his body begin to tingle. <em>Shit, shit, shit.</em></p><p>“Could we talk?” Remus pressed, and Sirius’s hand clenched around the strap of his backpack. The one that had been full of soup all those months ago.</p><p>“Look, I’m really busy right now, Remus, I have this artwork to drop off and -”</p><p>“<em>Padfoot,</em>” the words, all ringed with the sound of shattering glass and pleas for help, of James’s soothing and Remus’s dejection, glanced off Sirius’s ears like a blow from his father.</p><p>“I appreciate the coffee, Remus,” Sirius pressed on weakly, aware of how strained his voice had started to sound. “I have to go. Call me later?”</p><p>“Sirius, <em>please</em>,” Remus sighed, voice so bittersweet and tired that Sirius’s shoulders felt heavy, too heavy, weighted with the burden of what he’d brought to Remus, what he’d done to himself.</p><p>“What?” His mouth pressed into a firm line. The more he could keep everything under control, the easier this would go. Keep everything grey, everything under chipped concrete and stone. His stomach shifted.</p><p><em>You know you can’t be in control, Sirius.</em> The voice crooned, and he sucked in a breath.</p><p>“I thought we could talk.”</p><p>Sirius’s legs had begun to hurt from standing for too long, the weight of his backpack and the burning of the flask against his hips trickling into his joints. His head winced.</p><p>“Talk about what? We <em>are</em> talking.”</p><p>“About last night-” Remus started, and Sirius’s heart seemed to shudder, the throbbing in his temple clambering. He could feel his insides bubbling, hot and feverish, and all he wanted to do was kick Remus out, have some shots, and sleep a dreamless sleep.</p><p>“Surprised I’m not too hungover,” Sirius grinned and threw his head back, dazzling. “Wicked party though.”</p><p>“You know that’s not what I meant.”</p><p>Sirius breathed through his nose. He could feel his temper shifting inside his stomach. The back of his neck itched, and every part of his skin seemed to be humming with discomfort.</p><p>
  <em>Remus, leave. You can’t see me like this, please, leave, leave, leave.</em>
</p><p>“I don’t know what you mean-”</p><p>“<em>God</em> Sirius, you’re so, fucking, <em>Jesus</em>-”</p><p>The tone change made Sirius flinch, and he took a cautionary step back.</p><p>“-I want to <em>help</em>,” Remus pleaded, moving forward. Walburga clawed through Sirius’s chest.</p><p>“I don’t need help, Remus,” he snapped coldly, watching the other man’s face fall. <em>Good,</em> he thought. <em>Anything to get him out of here.</em></p><p>“Why won’t you let me help you?”</p><p>“Because I don’t <em>fucking need it, Remus</em>” Sirius hissed.</p><p>
  <em>Remus, leave. Please leave, leave, leave-</em>
</p><p>“Sirius, I- that’s not normal, to have dreams, to have <em>nightmares</em> like that. Please, we can help you-”</p><p>“Remus,” Sirius gritted his teeth, feeling the black cloud surge through his chest. “I’m fine. But I really have to leave.”</p><p>“Are you drunk?” Remus asked, softly, and Sirius’s head snapped up.</p><p>“<em>No,</em>” he glowered, teeth clenching together.</p><p>“Yes you are. I can smell it on you.”</p><p>“Since when were you a superhero, <em>Moony</em>?” Sirius mocked, eyebrows arched.</p><p>
  <em>Remus, leave. Leave, leave, leave-</em>
</p><p>“Give me the flask.”</p><p>Sirius balked, hand instinctively covering his pocket where the metal container sat. He jutted his chin out, a filthy, thunderous look crossing over his face. He felt embarrassed, dirty, <em>exposed</em>, and now Remus was stood in his doorway, pity and disappointment seared across his face, forever chipped in the marble stone of scarred cheekbones.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Sirius,” Remus uttered, voice firm. “Give me the fucking flask.”</p><p>Walburga laughed and whispered up his spine.</p><p><em>You’re weak, Sirius,</em> she breathed in his ear. <em>Weak.</em></p><p>“<em>No,</em>” Sirius’s voice was incredulous, but it was starting to sound further and further away. “Just piss off, now. You’re getting on my nerves.”</p><p>“Give me the flask, Sirius-” Remus started forward, hand reaching out, and the night crashed in on him. He jerked backwards, hands flying up to protect his face. Sirius waited for the cold crunch of a broken nose or bruised cheekbone, but it never came. He lowered his trembling arms, and there Remus stood, eyes shimmering, only one emotion written across the only face Sirius cared about.</p><p>
  <em>Pity.</em>
</p><p>Sirius stomach rolled, and he thought he was going to be sick. The only tangible feeling he could really digest, other than an all-encompassing, gut-wrenching queasiness, was <em>anger.</em> Anger at the world, and himself; his parents, his <em>brother</em>, all of them, for everything they did; and angry at Remus, for making him feel. Just <em>feel</em>.</p><p>“Remus,” he said quietly. His mother’s grip tightened on his shoulders.</p><p>
  <em>You will never be free of me.</em>
</p><p>“Fuck off.”</p><p>“<em>No,</em>,” Remus’s blazing amber eyes met his. “No. I’m not leaving.”</p><p>“I don’t <em>want you here</em>,” Sirius spat, voice hardening.</p><p>
  <em>You are what we made you.</em>
</p><p>“I don’t believe you,” Remus pressed, firmly, voice dark.</p><p>A fog began to settle over Sirius’s mind, and he clutched to himself, his reason, his core, but it seemed like mist, slow, trickling mist, and his head was as empty as his heart felt. Fire crackled at the base of his spine, a red hot poker.</p><p>“Remus,” he protested weakly, trying desperately to cling to the last of him that slowly receded under the hissing screech of his mother, the scraping nightmares, the compacted earth that swallowed him every night. “Please, leave.”</p><p>
  <em>I don’t want you to see me like this.</em>
</p><p>“Sirius, just <em>talk</em> to me-”</p><p>“Why would I talk to you?”</p><p>Some faraway part of him dimly registered the snap, the sudden change. The faraway Sirius, on a different plane, called out to the one stood there, the one trembling in the doorway of his home, lips curling and eyes thunderous.</p><p>“You’re only the person I’m <em>shagging at the minute.</em>”</p><p>It was cruel. The distant Sirius screamed to take it back, but his body trembled and Black blood poured sluggishly through his veins. He couldn’t fight it. It’s who he was, who he always <em>would</em> be, the clawing, evil Black son, the one forged in clenched fists and blood that spattered walls like wine. He would never, <em>ever</em> be free.</p><p>Remus flinched and his face fell, all honey-coloured light sapping out of it. His lips opened, but no sound came out. With a sort of dull realisation, Sirius saw the shine in his tear-filled eyes. A dark thundercloud, a storm of ragged breathing and snarled cruelties crackled in the air around them.</p><p>“I- you don’t mean that-”</p><p>“Oh, I mean it,” Sirius laughed, a derisive, wicked sound. It wasn’t his voice, wasn’t him talking - he was watching from a long way away, rattling the bars of his bone-deep cage, begging to be let out.</p><p>
  <em>Let me out, please, Remus, I love you, I love you, I love-</em>
</p><p>“But, Sirius-” Remus pleaded, and the thundercloud settled, basking the two of them in a fog. The whirlwind that was murmured Welsh and fleeting dances spun away in the air and Sirius cried out, reaching for it, reaching for his <em>Remus</em>-</p><p>“- I<em> love</em> you-”</p><p>“<em>Well I don’t</em>,” Sirius shouted, voice a scream, and his whole body, every thin fibre and nerve ending, every cell and atom, screamed, <em>howled</em> with the lie. His flesh burned and his mind crumbled, sinuous cracks trickling through the calcified prison. He felt the coffee fall from his hands, heard it hit the floor, but he didn’t care.</p><p>Remus’s face went black with shock, amber eyes turning a dull grey. Sirius fought against himself to take it back, to reach across the cavernous divide that widened every minute, the cataclysmic <em>split</em> in the earth. Remus’s body, pressed against his; his hands, cold and soft, crinkled with scars; Remus, pressing him up against the wall of the club, smiling against his mouth; Remus, handing him coffee with a note written on the side, or a teabag taped to it; Remus helping him paint; Remus kissing him, and whispering Welsh into his hair; Remus and the record player; Remus and his eyes; Remus; Remus; Remus. All of it, every fleeting moment and stolen kiss, hands under the table and bodies intertwined, not sure where one began and the other started : it all fell into the deep black hole, the earth-shattering and plate-wrenching gap that now sunk between them, mouth raw, jagged, hungry.</p><p>“I- I don’t believe you,” his voice was barely a whisper, a single tear falling from the corner of his eye. “You- you don't love me?” The words were a quiet plea.</p><p>“No,” Sirius shook his head, body trembling with deceit, with cruelty. He wanted blood, wanted to see Remus <em>pay</em>, pay for making him <em>feel</em> and <em>love</em> and fight for existence. Fabian’s words echoed through his throbbing head, scraping his inner ears.</p><p>
  <em>Shame. Sirius Black has always been a fucking liar.</em>
</p><p>“I don’t love you. Okay? I never have.”</p><p>
  <em>Lie, lie, lie, lie, mensonge. Mensonge, mensonge-</em>
</p><p>“So leave. And stay away.”</p><p>Silence. The longest silence Sirius had ever heard in his life. A silence so thick and heavy it cloaked Sirius and almost drowned him.</p><p>“Get out.”</p><p>“Sirius-” Remus rasped, face now shining with tears. “Gwir ghariad, <em>please</em>-”</p><p>“<em>Remus.</em> Get out of my flat and <em>stay out of it.</em>”</p><p>Remus’s mouth parted. He stood, paralysed.</p><p>“So take your <em>coffee</em>, and your stupid records, and your fucking <em>I love you’s</em>,” Sirius stepped forward, dimly registering his socks becoming soaked with spilled coffee. “And get the <em>fuck</em> out of my apartment. And don’t you<em> ever fucking come back.</em>”</p><p>Remus was quiet. And then he opened his mouth, his face a tumbling visage of hurt.</p><p>“Sut allech chi?” Remus whispered in Welsh, and then he stepped back, over the threshold, and was gone. He was gone.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius slammed the door, the sound ricocheting through the apartment complex, through his mind, shuddering into his trembling heart. He clutched the wood in front of him, and gasped, sinking to his knees.</p><p>Everything hit him in a flood, a gasping wave that crashed into him and left him clawing for air. He gasped, breathing in heavily, panting, trying to claw in oxygen, but it wouldn’t come. The Remus he kept in his heart fled out, all amber strands trickling from his veins and pouring out of his bandaged fingertips that now spasmed in the wet puddle of spilt coffee.	He couldn’t breathe, and Walburga threw her head back, laughing, her hands round his throat, <em>always round his throat,</em> and he whimpered, curling up on the floor. His hair was soaked, lying sopping in the pool of hot liquid, not sure what was the flat white Remus had poured for him and what were his own tears. And then they came, the sobs, one at first, and the rest spilling forth. Huge, wracking sobs that tore from his chest, each cry scraping along his windpipe as his mother held her boot on his neck. She leaned close, whispering in his ear, as he sprawled, a crumpled heap, body shuddering in heaving cries, his mind replaying the look of blank shock, the pure <em>look of hurt</em> patterned across the face of a man he would do anything for.</p><p>
  <em>You are what we made you, Sirius.</em>
</p><p>And there he lay, a twisted heap, seams splintering, his whole world unravelling, every stitch and fibre, every amber-coloured thread, spilling away, fraying, until he was nothing but a dot, a small, insignificant dot, in the vast and terrifying world ruled by the branches of the Black family tree.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The Hospital</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PLEASE READ!!!!!</p><p>sorry it took a while, I had a college deadline up my arse.<br/>CW for alcoholism, blood, cuts, hospitals, allusion to domestic abuse, chronic pain discussed.<br/>song is you're somebody else by flora cash :')</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>I saw the part of you,<br/>
That only when you're older you will see too,<br/>
You will see too.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I held the better cards,<br/>
But every stroke of luck has got a bleed through,<br/>
It's got a bleed through.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You held the balance of the time,<br/>
That only blindly I could read you,<br/>
But I could read you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It's like you told me,<br/>
Go forward slowly,<br/>
It's not a race to the end.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Well you look like yourself,<br/>
But you're somebody else,<br/>
Only it ain't on the surface.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Well you talk like yourself,<br/>
No, I hear someone else though,<br/>
Now you're making me nervous.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You were the better part,<br/>
Of every bit of beating heart that I had,<br/>
Whatever I had.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I finally sat alone,<br/>
Pitch black flesh and bone,<br/>
Couldn't believe that you were gone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Well you look like yourself,<br/>
But you're somebody else,<br/>
Only it ain't on the surface.</em>
</p><p><em>Well you talk like yourself,</em><br/>
No, I hear someone else though,<br/>
Now you're making me nervous. 	</p><p> </p><p>Sirius wished, so desperately, that the world would just fucking slow down, stop the whirring and the sounds, the crackling boom of emotion and the suffocation of every day life, the trails of handprints down his spine, embalmed in his nerves. He wished so desperately to just live in a world where his existence wasn’t so fucking suffocating, in a world where it didn’t hurt to breathe. It was so overwhelming, the chasmic nexus of his mind at electric speed, backed only by the dim, shadowy fingers of his past.</p><p> </p><p>It was an unexplainably exhausting feeling, being chained with iron to a life you no longer needed, to a reality that served nothing but the truly heavy weight of your own eternal life.</p><p>That was, until Remus.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius Black had been in love.</p><p>It was what he realised, the kind of dawning awareness, that occurred in the days after. And it wasn’t a recent thing, like a light switch moment, or a cracking epiphany. It was just love, and maybe always had been, maybe in all the years before that. Every part of him had something missing, and it was Remus. It had always been Remus. All the people Sirius had ever been with, ever kissed, ever slept with - they’d never been love. Remus had been love.</p><p>Was that what love felt like? Warm and sure and comforting, the taste of cigarettes and salt, the whispered words and scarred hands and amber-eyes? Cold, and scary, and a whirlwind, raw and desperate and hungry? The sunlight that lived within Remus. And the moonlight, too, the silver of the scarred skin, the glowing, shimmering network of marks that illuminated his whole beautiful body.</p><p>Sirius Black had been in love.</p><p>And now he lay, staring at the moons on his ceiling.</p><p>One was missing. The inner and smaller moon of Sylvia.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius slept dreamlessly, in the days after. He couldn’t bring himself to see it as a victory, as a release.</p><p>One way or another, he was plagued with nightmares.</p><p>He saw her all the time now, not just in his mind’s eye. No, she was everywhere. She whispered in his ear. She dug her fingernails into his flesh.</p><p>They came back, of course. The dreams. He’d wake up, screaming for him. For Remus, hands clawing out at the phantom of bodies all around, returning only to his side when the yawning, echoing silence of pure aloneness settled as heavy fog around his trembling form, nothing to comfort him but his own cornered whimpers and the splitting of his cracked skin.</p><p><em>You’re weak</em>, the voice would say. It wasn’t just hers anymore. It was both of them, Sirius’s voice too, like calling to like. Maybe this was it, he supposed. Maybe I’m just becoming the person I was always destined to be. Beneath it all, beneath the screaming night terrors and the scratched skin, the drunken eyes and the dull ache of nausea, the way his hands burned and burned and burned - was where he truly belonged, where he truly dwelt. A cold eternity of himself, and all his likeness and reality. A never-ending stretch of Sirius. A place where he could not bear to open his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“I think you should go to the hospital.” James was standing in the kitchen, Lily beside him, a halo of red hair and a crown of black curls staring him down. Sirius looked forlornly down at the dropped bottle of gin, the last chance of escape from her pooling onto the kitchen tile. It glinted in the fluorescent bulb-light, the cracked glass reflecting small sparks into his stinging eyes.</p><p>“Why?” he mumbled, bending weakly to pick the green glass covering the kitchen.</p><p>“Sirius,” pale hands closed around his, LIly’s hands. He looked up at her, into the emerald gaze, that looked too much like the smashed gin bottle she was gently taking from him. “Look at your hands. And your feet. I’m worried.”</p><p>Sirius straightened. “They’re just scratches, Lily,” he shrugged. He looked at them. He was lying, of course. He seemed to be too skilled at that for his own good.</p><p>It was well after his birthday, and his hands and feet weren’t healing. It was his own fault, really. Every time the cuts started to look as though they were closing, he’d tug and tear till they wept again. He was trying to remind himself he was alive. He was here, now, in this world, this reality, tethered to the suffocating rawness of pain. It was red blood flowing through his veins. His own. Not hers.</p><p>Not hers, right? His. His.</p><p>“Sirius, yaar,” James stepped around Lily and took Sirius’s hands. He held them up to the light, and Sirius winced. Crimson was the first thing he noticed. The pure scarlet-ness of them, the cuts and the bruising and the marks. There was no paint, no charcoal. His fingernails weren’t painted. His fingertips looked sallow, and his heart clutched in such a savage sense of longing for his hands, his artist’s hands, to come back to him. But they wouldn’t, because he wouldn’t let them. “They’re going to scar if you keep doing this to them.”</p><p>“Good,” Sirius tugged them out of James’s grasp. <em>I want to never forget what I did. I want to see them every time I try to think I have any fucking control over my life. I don’t. And if I do, I don’t want it.</em></p><p>“No,” James pressed, firmly shaking his head. “No. I’m not going to let you <em>do</em> this to yourself, Sirius.”</p><p>“You don’t get to say that, James,” Sirius muttered, wrenching himself free. “Please just leave me be. I’m fine.”</p><p>Sirius turned on his heel and stalked, as much as a ghost could stalk, through the living room, pulling his boots on at the door. James and Lily moved through, concern pinching their brows into a thin line.</p><p>“Where are you going?”</p><p>“Where do you think?” Sirius snapped, already halfway out of the door. “I’ll be back later.”</p><p>His hands hurt, and he fumbled for his wallet with his bandaged palms as he clattered down the apartment complex’s steps, heart in his throat. It was always there at the moment. It made it easier for Walburga when she inevitably wrapped her claws round his neck.</p><p>He rounded the corner, cheeks pink with the fresh air of midnight, the nipping London chill, and shouldered his way into the off-license down the road, buying the strongest bottle of vodka they had. He didn’t meet the cashier’s eye.</p><p> </p><p>He was sat in a park, he thought. Everything felt numb - he couldn’t tell whether it was the cold or the booze, but whatever it was, he didn’t care. Sirius’s breath came in clouds in front of him, and he desperately tried to wrestle his box of straights, Marlboro’s, from his pocket. He tugged the box out, everything moving slowly, tongue heavy in his mouth. He flicked open the cardboard top, and let out a half-groan, half-whine, drunken and childish. The box was empty, although he swore he bought it only yesterday.</p><p>A man passed him, a man in a cable-knit, and Sirius’s vodka-fueled brain short circuited. Of course he was here, he was <em>here</em>, his Moony, come to bring him cigarettes. They’d smoke and talk about Remus’s favourite books, all of them, especially The Iliad. And then Sirius would tell him about art, about his recent adventures, and how he was trying a new coffee blend, and how much he <em>fucking loved Remus.</em> And then they would kiss, and kiss and kiss and kiss, and fall down together, arms entwined, in the safe cocoon of Sirius’s sheets, a lamp-lit amalgamation of their breathing parts, togetherness and aliveness in a symphonic lullaby. Remus’s mouth grinning against his and all the loving awkwardness that still persisted like the first time they’d ever been together. Sirius smiled, feeling the warm settle over him. His Moony was here.</p><p>“Moony!” he called after the man, and the figure turned, quizzically, and shrugged, disappearing again. Sirius’s heart dropped, his mouth souring, the fizzling golden glow of his fleeting fantasy stealing away from him and disappearing into the thick black night upon his clouding breath. The man wasn’t Remus: he was wearing a god-awful cable-knit, sure, and his hair was sort of similar. But there was no awkward Remus grin, chipped tooth and all, straight nose only slightly crooked, a huge, long and beautiful scar spanning the cross of his face, smaller ones cadencing cheekbones and cheeks. And no auburn eyes.</p><p>This wasn’t his Moony.</p><p>No one ever would be.</p><p> </p><p>“James?” Sirius croaked, whispering to the dark apartment, the only light the fluttering titian of the streetlamps outside. Sirius shut the door behind him, hands heavy and tongue like lead in his mouth. He swayed as he tentatively padded towards the bedrooms, stomach heaving and head wincing. He’d had too much, he knew that, but part of him couldn’t ever seem to rationalise anything except the tight coil of the bottle’s rim and the feel of full glass in his hands. </p><p>“James?” He murmured to the dark entryway. Everything ached. This wasn’t why he’d bought the drink. He was feeling too much now.</p><p>“Prongs?”</p><p>“Padfoot?”</p><p>He almost wept with relief as a familiar shape came shifting out of the bedroom, wrapping him in strong arms as he sank to the floor.</p><p>“Hey, Pads,” he soothed, rubbing his back as he cried into his shoulder, hiccuping softly like a child, as everything, all of his fucking mistakes and dumb decisions, crashed over him. “Hey, what is it? What happened?”</p><p>“I miss him,” Sirius sniffed against the now damp fabric of James’s pyjama shirt. “Fuck, I miss him so much.”</p><p>“I know,” James murmured, hand still rubbing his back. “I know, bud.”</p><p>“I-I’m scared,” Sirius whispered, voice cracking. “I- she’s come back. I don’t know what to do.”</p><p>“Hey,” James pulled out of the hug, taking Sirius by the shoulders. His eyebrows knitted together, hazel eyes ringed with worry. “You’ve been seeing her again? Like, the visions and shit? You’re seeing her?”</p><p>Sirius nodded mutely, tears still streaming down his face. “All the time. I- what if I’m losing my mind, James? What if it’s permanent?” A small sob escaped his mouth. Everything hurt. His head, his hands, his heart. He just wanted to sleep, but he knew what waited for him on the other side.</p><p>“You’re not going crazy, Padfoot,” James said firmly, fighting for eye contact. “I promise. Listen, let’s just take this one bit at a time, okay? We’ll take you for help with your hands tomorrow. We’ll go from there. Alright?”</p><p>Sirius didn’t answer. His lip wobbled.</p><p>“Alright?” James repeated, and Sirius nodded, a short jerk of the head.</p><p>“Alright,” he whispered.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius Black hated hospitals - it wasn’t unusual for people to dislike hospitals, but Sirius <em>really fucking hated them</em>. The acrid, clinical stench of cleaning supplies and the heavy linger of death made his stomach turn over and over and over.</p><p>Sirius had been to the hospital a few times during his life. Maybe, he pondered, that was why he hated them so much. The memories.</p><p>The odd drunken injury here and there, a sprained ankle or a cut hand, like today. Or when he staggered in, half alive, his father’s voice still ringing in his ears. And the times after that. How they’d arrived at the hospital, whispered comforting words to the nurses and doctors - <em>it was an accident, he’s bipolar, you see, he’s so clumsy, he got mouthy with some lads on the street</em> - and after a while, Sirius had stopped bothering.</p><p>So he felt it fair to shoot James a glare when his best friend told him off for jiggling his leg too much. Sirius couldn’t help it - it was A&amp;E, in London, and despite the time of day, it was packed. His motorcycle boots squeaked on the green linoleum floor.</p><p>James sighed and stood up. A twinge of guilt went through Sirius - James had had to take the day off work, and they’d been here for two hours waiting. James looked tired - his normally hazel eyes were dull, almost grey, and his hair looked limp. He looked like Sirius felt. <em>Did I do that?</em> Sirius wondered.</p><p>“I’m going to the Starbucks out front, okay?” James smiled weakly. “Want anything?”</p><p>“Black coffee, please. Ex-”</p><p>“Extra shot of espresso, yep,” James made a rueful face, and then he was walking away, shape blending into the swirling mass of people.</p><p>Sirius scowled at the wall, hoping he could burn a hole through it with his eyes. His head hurt, he needed a drink, and <em>the waiting was taking fucking ages.</em> He looked down at his hands, still covered in gauze from Lily’s first aid supplies, little red splashes poking out of the white. He turned them over, chewing his lip, feeling it split again. <em>Were they going to scar?</em></p><p>Bored, and waiting for James, he continued to jiggle his leg, looking around the waiting room and observing everyone with a haughty eyebrow and impatient indifference. There was a kid, tears brimming his eyes. <em>Don’t cry, for Christ’s sake.</em> A girl, who looked about 14, cradling a broken thumb. A man with his leg up on another chair, wincing in pain. Sirius huffed, and turned to watch the nurses down the corridor instead, hoping for some entertainment, or <em>something.</em></p><p>That was when he saw him.</p><p>And it was him, alright. Definitely him. Honey curls, messy haircut, skinny frame. Green cable-knit and drainpipe jeans. Scarred hands, a hunched over walk. That was Remus.</p><p>Sirius was on his feet before he’d even registered what on earth he was doing, needing to be close to him, to see him and drink him in and <em>just fucking hold him.</em> He skittered up to Remus, who, eyes downcast, jumped with the sudden presence, tripping backwards a little, and dropping whatever he’d been carrying. Sirius’s face grew hot, his words lodged in his mouth. <em>What the fuck had he been thinking?</em></p><p>Wordlessly, Sirius bent to the floor, scooping up Remus’s packet. It was a box, inside a paper pharmacy bag. Sirius’s breath caught as he read the label - <em>prednisone and tramadol </em> - strong ass medicine. He knew tramadol was a painkiller - a very intense one. He wracked his brain. Prednisone. He’d heard that before. What did it treat? </p><p>Shit.</p><p>“Oh,” Sirius said dumbly, voice hollow, as Remus snatched his bag back with a thunderous glare. “Remus-”</p><p>But Remus had already started walking past him, a sigh escaping his lips. Sirius felt the softness of his jumper brush against his bare arm, the scent of cinnamon and cigarettes filling him. He grabbed Remus’s arm - it was stupid, look where it had gotten him before - but he didn’t care. Remus couldn’t leave. Remus stared down at the bandaged hand and back up at Sirius’s face.</p><p>Remus looked like <em>shit</em>. His amber-eyes were as bright as always, but they were ringed with deep black and purple circles, and were swollen. They were tinged red, a feverish scarlet along the edges, as if he hadn’t been sleeping. <em>Maybe he hadn’t.</em> His skin was grey, almost blending in with his scars, and his lips were cracked, bruised, small cuts where his crooked teeth had clenched them mirroring Sirius’s equally shredded mouth. He looked <em>sad<em>.</em></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Moony-” Sirius started, but Remus jerked away, flinching at the name. He caught his lip in between his incisors before he spoke.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“What the fuck are you doing?”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Sirius’s stood, dumbstruck, palm still wrapped around Remus’s bicep. He’d lost weight, Sirius could tell - if that were even possible.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“What?” Was all he managed, a pathetic ghost of the quick-witted Sirius Black.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Why are you fucking talking to me?” Remus uttered, voice hoarse. “What the fuck makes you think you can talk to me?”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Sirius let out a small puff of breath. His mouth was still parted, and for once, Sirius Black had absolutely nothing to say.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>But what could he say?</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em><em>Tell him you love him.</em> He pleaded with himself, but the words wouldn’t come. The fear that laid with them was too much - the openness, the vulnerability, the raw, gaping cavern of his heart that he <em>desperately wanted to fill with Remus</em> would sit empty, forever. Because Sirius Black was a fucking coward.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Remus just looked at him, nothing like all the times he had before. Just watched, and then shook his head, once, eyes brimming with tears.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>And then he was gone.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>A sob escaped Sirius’s mouth, and he gasped, stuffing his bandaged hand into it. <em>You won’t fucking cry in the hospital again, Sirius.</em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He stood, rooted to the spot, the steady flow of people around him parting only to get where they needed to be. James clasped his shoulder.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Padfoot, what are you-?”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Sirius whirled. “I have to go,” he stammered, already moving. “No, I have to go.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Hey, hey,” James wobbled with the cardboard of coffees in his hand, other still firmly planted on Sirius. “No, we agreed.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“<em>Remus</em>,” was all Sirius said, eyes shining, and James’s face widened in surprise.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“He was here? What-”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“I have to go, I- I have to <em>talk</em> to him, James,” Sirius rambled, eyes feverish. “Please, you-”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“And say what?” James spoke sharply, and their eyes met, stern hazel meeting panicked blue. “Because unless you’re going there with apologies and promises, you stay put.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Promises?” Sirius could barely speak around the lump in his throat. His eyes threatened tears, and he teetered dangerously on the brink of collapse.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“You broke his heart, Sirius,” James’s voice softened, a hint of melancholy threaded through the usual devilish baritone. “You broke the poor bloke’s heart. So unless you’re going to tell him you love him, <em>promise to stay</em>, promise to stop the drinking, the dicking about, the kissing other people -”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“- we were never exclusive -”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Padfoot, <em>listen</em> to me. Unless you’re going to give him all of that, then don’t go after him.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Sirius’s lip trembled, and his stomach, his chest, his throat, <em>every fucking part of him</em> felt cold and hollow without Remus. His body, his mind, his heart - his whole fucking existence - just yearned for Remus, for the feeling of his scarred hands over his, the brush of his curls along his lips. The warmth and the daytime, the coolness and the night. Everything, everything Remus ever was and ever had been. Sirius needed it, and needed him.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“You ruined him. So now you have to let him put himself back together. Without you.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>James’s hand was warm on Sirius, the only thing not cold on Sirius’s wiry, trembling frame.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“But I love him,” it was barely a whisper.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“I know,” James nodded. “But sometimes that just isn’t enough.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“He was sick.” Sirius was stood in the doorway of the living room. He had stitches now, and salve to use, and bandages still wrapped around his hands.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Lily and James looked up from where they were sat on the sofa.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Remus?” Lily murmured, still delicate around a mouthful of food.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Yeah,” Sirius nodded, once, tersely. “All those times he cancelled. When I thought he was with other people. When I’d throw my tantrums-” he laughed, a jagged, hollow sound. “And go out, get unbelievably fucked, and snog some rando. All those times, I thought he was fucking me off. But he was sick.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Sick?” James replied, black eyebrows knitting together. “Are you sure? How do you know?”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“When I saw him at the hospital,” Sirius tried to still the shake of his hands. “He was coming from the pharmacy. He dropped his pill packet.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Oh,” was all James said. Lily didn’t speak.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Tramadol and Prednisone.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“<em>Tramadol?</em>” James asked, shocked, pushing his glasses into his hair. “Fucking hell. And Prednisone? That’s um- the-” his brow furrowed in thought, and Lily, who’d been chewing on her fingernails, spoked up.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“That’s for rheumatoid arthritis.” She said quietly.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Christ,” James turned to look at her. “And Tramadol, I’m right, aren’t I-”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“Strong painkillers,” Lily said quietly, looking at her hands. “Really strong. Oh, Remus.”</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Sirius turned away, once again having nothing to say. Hatred fizzled in his bones, for himself, and his mother, and everyone. The whole fucking world, <em>every single last bit of it. </em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>How could he?</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>All those times, Remus had been in pain. He’d <em>needed</em> Sirius, and Sirius had never come. Warm, smiling Remus, with his beautiful scars and his chipped teeth, with his gentle hands and soft hair. Remus had needed Sirius, and now Sirius needed him. And he couldn’t have him.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Shouldn’t.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>“You never deserved him,” he said to himself, quietly, no one around to hear, as he stood, perpetually alone. He slipped out of the apartment before James and Lily could hear him leave.</em>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>HEY!!!!!!!!!! ILY!!!!!<br/>
ik im fucking evil bcos this isnt a chapter but i needed to talk to you besties!

so. thanks SO much for all the comments. i try my hardest to reply to as many as i can but i'm not the best and i can't reply to every one BUT I SEE THEM&lt; I LOVE THEM&lt; THEY MAKE MY HEART MELT SO THANK U!!</p><p>there will be a new chapter by the end of this week methinks! tbh i've been pretty swamped in college work and exams have been announced!</p><p>BUT</p><p>you thought you could get rid of me???? NEVER</p><p>I've started a NEW FIC bcos i am awesome, go bookmark and read and comment, i hope u LOVE IT (wolfstar, duh!) also i post long shots and stuff not quite as fucking heart wrenching as this </p><p>ON TOP OF THAT i have started a SPOTIFY ACCOUNT because i'm just awesome, so you can get playlists for each fic and the characters IN each fic, and just all sorts! so yes!<br/>
spotify account has a stupid user but u can find me by searching 'kitchen roll', my name is 'kitchen roll&lt;3' </p><p>i'm also going to be posting some of my one shots or sappy excerpts i wrote while on the bus home in my notes app with my remus playlist on loop.<br/>
THANK U FOR UR SUPPORt It MEANS THE WORLD and i WILL keep consistently updating i PROMISE i just need some time to get ALL the remaining chapters written for u! in the mean time, go check out When The Sun Goes Down - it's a London UCL Au. UCL is one of the universities in London. Sirius is an art student and a maneater party animal, James is an adorable boffin, Remus is a lovable sarcastic asshole, and Lily is an icon! as usual. Plus, they/he sirius! PLUS PLUS: enemies to loversssss. and i mean, ENEMIES to lovers. lots of pining, denial, mistakes, arguments, jealousy, angst - alllllllll of that delicious stuff!

HOWEVER there will be discussions of mental health issues - and NO i will not be making ANY ridiculous attempt to glorify or glamourise it. at all. </p><p>love u endlessly xxxxx</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. August/August</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PLZ READ!<br/>do yall acc read the notes? lmk in ur comment cos im scared yall dont<br/>i am spoiling u all on spotify - 'kitchenr011&lt;3'</p><p>i sorta cried writing this chapter. oops<br/>CW: SAD shit. depression alluded to.<br/>song is august by taylor swift :') grant's song, but imagine it from sirius's POV this chapter.<br/>for anyone confused about the timeline, remus and sirius met when sirius had just turned 22, in mid-december, and they got together early in the next year, were together right up until sirius turned 23. then chaos ensues, and now it is august, three months before sirius turns 24. so pretty much they've known one another two years now.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Salt air, and the rust on your door,<br/>
I never needed anything more.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Whispers of "Are you sure?"<br/>
"Never have I ever before".</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But I can see us lost in the memory,<br/>
August slipped away into a moment in time,<br/>
'Cause it was never mine.</em>
</p><p><em>And I can see us twisted in bedsheets,<br/>
August sipped away like a bottle of wine,<br/>
'Cause you were never mine. </em>	</p><p> </p><p>Sirius was doing better.</p><p>At least, that’s what he told himself. That’s what he would say when James or Lily asked, or the psychiatrist with the odd glasses that James, in all his endless James-ness, had insisted on.</p><p>Sirius Black was doing better.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Shame. Sirius Black has always been a fucking liar. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was March, and things were looking up. He thought. Or was it April? He didn’t really leave the house much.</p><p>The dreams were still there, but then again, he wasn’t sure if they’d ever quite disappear. They were different, now. Sometimes they were so suffocatingly dark Sirius wasn’t sure he’d ever wake up, just simply convinced he’d be trapped inside the dank and desperate hallways of Grimmauld Place, an unrelenting <em>blackness</em> and swathes of shadow all around. Sometimes they had Remus in. Sometimes he didn’t dream.</p><p>But he was doing better. Occasionally odd things made him upset - like the Ziggy Stardust album on the record player, which he eventually stuffed under his bed, surrendering it, long forgotten to the dust; the smell of Lily’s herbal tea on a Sunday morning; sunlight; the taste of cinnamon and cigarettes. </p><p>He’d dumped the alcohol, mostly. Grudgingly, perhaps, would be a better word for it. It was that or rehab, and he really couldn’t stand to be anywhere except his bedroom, and sometimes the living room.</p><p>He quit his job. It was one of the first things he did, after he saw Remus in the hospital. He rung Dedalus Diggle, and told him he couldn't come back. He was sick, for the foreseeable future.</p><p>People milled in and out of the flat. James and Lily still had their lives, and so did the rest of their friends. The Potter couple cut back on their Saturday night outings, much to Sirius’s protest. They were wary to leave him alone. They left him with someone acting as a babysitter, most times. Afters was always at someone else's flat, so Sirius couldn’t see Remus, or the booze. But Sirius didn’t care. He stared mindlessly at the wall for most of the time. He drew, still, but his art was different, now. Less colourful, less swooping. </p><p>He drew on the walls, as well, much to James’s dismay.</p><p>Dorcas and Marlene came round a lot, always bearing pizza and junk food and movies. Sirius would sit, sometimes, on the sofa, sinking into the plush fabric, perpetual and neverending exhaustion settling in. When he’d wake with a start, and see everyone averting their eyes, it was time to go back to the dark comfort of his room.</p><p>Kingsley popped his head in, once or twice. But Sirius couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear to see himself in the mirror, the worry bitten lips and sunken eyes, the face hollow with malnourishment and body fractious with exhaustion - so how could he possibly cope with other people seeing him? He was a woeful, shredded mess, and a shell of the person he’d been. The less people that saw that, the better.</p><p>Regulus tried. Perhaps he thought he knew better than James. He’d tried to coax Sirius out of it, to bombard him with attempts of mischief and adventure. Sirius had lost his temper - there was a shattered bowl somewhere, ragged insults, a torn canvas. </p><p>Regulus didn’t come round much anymore.</p><p>This was his life, his existence, tarnished and muddy. It was an experience of abject, pitiful misery, and he accepted nothing else. </p><p>So, yes. Sirius Black was doing ‘better’.</p><p> </p><p>“Sirius, please,” James was using his full name. Not Padfoot, Pads. It was late August, and the blistering summer sun glared through the windows of Flat 13A. Summer would give way to Autumn in a week or so, and then Winter. Time passed idly to Sirius, and he watched it go with numb indifference.</p><p>“Sirius,” James repeated, trying to catch his best friend’s eye. “Please.”</p><p>Sirius sighed, sipping his coffee, still smoking cigarette perched in one hand, clasped between two skinny fingers. He’d lost weight.</p><p>“I don’t want to go, James,” Sirius replied, not looking at him. Instead, he kept staring impassively out of the window, at the bustling Londonian street below. At all the people who did something with themselves, who laughed, bright and aware, who blinked and revelled in the summer sun while Sirius sat and seethed in it.</p><p>“You need to leave the flat. It’s been too long.” James persisted, stepping in front of the window, forcing Sirius to look at him. “Come on. It’s only Puddifoot’s.”</p><p>Puddifoots was the coffee shop near their flat, and Sirius thought it was okay. Nothing like the B&amp;B, but Sirius had enjoyed it.</p><p>He didn’t enjoy much anymore.</p><p>“No,” was all he said, gently tapping the ceramic rim of his mug, eyes glassy. The air crackled, and Sirius sensed a shift.</p><p>James Potter never got angry, and never at Sirius. But things were pretty fucking fucked up, weren’t they?</p><p>“That’s <em>enough,</em>” James snapped, snatching the cup of coffee from a startled Sirius, who reacted with a yelp as his cigarette swiftly followed, turning to crushed ash in the tray on the table. “Get up. Go get dressed. Now.”</p><p>“James, stop being such a pain in the arse-”</p><p>James cut him off by dragging him up and hauling a protesting Sirius to his bedroom. This was the most movement and emotion Sirius had exhibited in the last 8 months. James’s grip was firm, but gentle, as constant and focal and <em>reassuring</em> as James always was. James pushed him towards his room, pulling out one of the drawers in Sirius’s dresser.</p><p>“Clothes, now,” he said, mouth a straight line.</p><p>“Fucking hell Prongs, no-”</p><p>James silenced him with a wave of his hand. “Pads. You’re pale as fuck, because you haven’t left the house in so long. I’m sick of brewing coffee in Simon. We’re going to Puddifoots. <em>Now.</em>”</p><p>Sirius jutted his chin out, but James, as himself as ever, starting pulling clothes out of the drawer. “There,” he flung a black and white Sex Pistols at Sirius, and some flare jeans, “there, and there.” Sirius stood, looking down at the pile of clothes in his hand. He shifted uncomfortably in his pyjama bottoms. “Now.” James said, and shut the door with a slam.</p><p>Sirius sighed, and sat down at the end of his bed, head in his hands, calloused fingers running through the tangled mess. James was right. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been outside, or spent time with other people. But he didn’t <em>want</em> to. Look how he hurt Remus - how could he be trusted around people? How could anyone stand him?</p><p>He sighed, pulling the Pistols t-shirt on, stretching into the thin white fabric, which usually moulded against his form. Now it hung off him. He buckled the flares with trembling fingers, and willed himself to look upwards. It was him, alright, staring back in the mirror. Aristocratic cheekbones, now melancholically defined by the fact he’d lost weight, too much weight; black hair, which now hung, unkempt, mullet overgrown and curls limp; full lips, that looked as though a paper-shredder had been set loose on them. He was Sirius, except he wasn’t. The face that stared back was simultaneously his and a stranger’s all at once - piercing aquamarine eyes turned a dull, gunmetal gray, and patterns of mischief that had tracked along his features like a doe’s feet in the snow, were covered, buried, in the relentless fall.</p><p>“Decent?” James rapped at the door, startling Sirius, who wrenched it open with a scowl. “There you go. Like new.”</p><p>Sirius didn’t say anything, just stared, defiant, gray eyes meeting hazel, until James cracked into a grin. “Right then!” He beamed. “To Puddifoot’s we go!”</p><p> </p><p>James couldn’t have known what would have happened, that day. How could he have? He was James, perpetually well-intentioned and kind, conditioned to be nothing but pure radiant sunlight for everyone he came into contact with. He couldn’t have known, and yet a little bit of Sirius still blamed him for it.</p><p> </p><p>“Ooh, I love Puddifoot’s in the summer,” James cooed as the bell tinkled, him and Sirius traipsing in, wincing in the summer sun. He was mindlessly chattering, trying to fill the gaping hole that the absence of Sirius’s quips left gaping. “So pretty.”</p><p>Sirius had to admit it was pretty, despite the natural greyishness of his life at the moment. The wood slatting outside was a pale lilac, and all the in season flowers hung from baskets over the pastel wire of the patio tables and chairs outside. It was more of a tea-room than a coffee shop, but they served the Arabica brew Sirius inhaled by the gallon, so he felt inclined to choose there over anywhere else.</p><p>B&amp;B was out of the question, obviously.</p><p>The pair shuffled up to the counter, and the plump lady behind the counter met them with a smile. Her eyes crinkled at the corners - she reminded Sirius a little bit of Euphemia.</p><p>“What can I do for you, loves?” She simpered in a thick accent, and James, as sociable as ever, leaned forward. </p><p>“I would <em>adore</em> one of those iced caramel macchiato things,” James grinned. “Sirius?”</p><p>“Erm,” Sirius shrugged, indifferent. “I’ll have a black coffee.”</p><p>“Don’t be stupid!” James chastised, shooting the lady an apologetic glance. “Padfoot, it’s 25 degrees outside. He’ll have-”</p><p>“Fine, I’ll have a cold brew, black,” Sirius reasoned, but James shook his head again.</p><p>“No. What about iced hazelnut frappuccino? You used to love those!”</p><p>“James, I-”</p><p>“Perfect,” James clapped a firm hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “That’ll be it, Miss,” he smiled at the lady behind the counter, who’s thin eyebrows had furrowed in confusion. She nodded, and set about making their drinks, while James leaned on the counter, charming as ever.</p><p>“Why’d you do that?” Sirius mumbled darkly, staring at a spot on the floor, scuffing it with the toe of his biker boot. “S’embarrassing.”</p><p>“Speak up, chap,” James chuckled, but Sirius knew he heard him.</p><p>“I haven’t had a frap in…” Sirius trailed off. </p><p>The hazelnut frappucino was his go-to drink in the summer. He remembered the taste of it on Remus’s lips, one blazing August afternoon, when they’d both gotten the day off from work. They’d both had one, at Sirius’s insistence, and drunk them in Hyde Park, lounging under a tree. God, it had been so <em>warm</em> that day, and somehow nowhere near as warm as his stomach always felt when he was around Remus. Remus always ran cold, for some reason, but the feeling, the skin-on-skin contact as tattoos met scars, had always been blisteringly hot. </p><p>They’d laughed the whole way back to Sirius’s apartment, and sat on the balcony, watching the evening sun settle over the metropolitan skyline. Right on the fire escape - it had all felt very New York - they’d sat, opposite ends but knees up and toes touching, just smoking and watching Helios track his way across the horizon. Remus had laughed at something he’d said, thrown that beautiful head back and just <em>laughed</em> at the sky, and Sirius could remember the gut-wrenching tug of love as clear as day. </p><p>One of them had brought a blanket out, and eventually they lay tangled underneath the soft cotton, Remus’s head on Sirius’s chest, wrapped in the cocoon of his arms, breathing softly as he slept. Sirius had watched the way that the daylight had given way to night, seen how, in the sun’s final moments of the day, Remus had been basked in pure light, how his amber-ness, all the honey-coloured love of him, had boasted and shone and just fucking <em>beamed</em> with the fading glow. And then as night-time came, as Remus still lay, fast asleep against Sirius, and the shivering blues and blacks and silvers of a clear midsummer’s night had trickled into the constellations of scars on Remus’s face, and how Sirius had wished more than anything to just <em>kiss</em> every single last one of them, to trace them with his fingertips, and tell Remus how <em>beautiful</em> they were, how beautiful <em>he was.</em></p><p>But he didn’t, hadn’t, and never would get the chance to. Because the rules, the lines, the boundaries - they were clear. </p><p>Remus didn’t want a relationship, or whatever this was. He didn’t want domesticity, he didn’t want tenderness, he didn’t want something so trivial as a boyfriend. Maybe that was for the best - boyfriend just seemed so mundane, so unfitting. So <em>lacking</em> - there had to be another word for how Remus made him feel, what Remus was to him. </p><p>Love wouldn’t even cover it - the words hadn’t even been invented yet. So instead, he just lay, patiently, until Remus had woken with a soft start, with a small hiccup of breath that hit Sirius’s chest which such a wave of tenderness he’d wanted nothing more than to devour ever last part of Remus and hold him in his heart forever. </p><p>If he could choose one feeling to orbit eternally, it would be the feeling he got when he watched Remus wake in his arms - when the amber eyes flew open, blinking back the sunlight, or the moonlight; how his mouth, the lips gently brushed with a small scar, would be ever so parted; how that little hush of breath escaped.</p><p>
  <em>”Hey, sleepy head,” Sirius murmured against Remus’s curls, not caring that this was too far, too affectionate. He half expected Remus to pull away, but instead that beautiful, golden face, like a streetlamp in a London alleyway, turned up to look at him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hey,” he smiled softly. “Did you sleep alright? What time is it?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Of course Remus would think he’d been asleep, Sirius sighed inwardly. Remus slept like a fucking cat - all the time, especially in the sun, and limbs splayed out like he was offering himself up to a murderer. But then, he supposed, they’d been out on the balcony for so long, for hours now, it wasn’t a ridiculous thing to think. But Sirius Black didn’t sleep. Remus just didn’t know that.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Perfect,” he whispered, and leaned in to kiss Remus, knowing that as soon as he did, everything would melt away and it would just be the two of them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was a soft kiss, firm and slow and so <strong>loving</strong> that Sirius was glad he was sat down, otherwise his knees would’ve gone out from under him. When he pulled away, he cupped Remus’s upturned face with his hand, running a painted thumb over the scar that lay on the top of his cheekbone. </em>
</p><p>
  <em><strong>Christ, you’re fucking everything to me,</strong> Sirius thought, as he stared at the face he wished he could tattoo on the inside of his eyelids, so he would never have to be without it again. <strong>You’re everything, and I would do anything for you, Remus. I’d fucking do everything all over again just for you, only you. I'd do it all. Over and over and over. Remus Lupin, I think I fucking love you.</strong></em>
</p><p>
  <em>He just couldn’t say the words, and he knew they would never come. Instead he pressed a soft kiss to Remus’s forehead, hoping that, in a way, his lips on Remus’s skin would do the talking, would say the words he could never speak, lest he wanted to keep Remus. “It’s cold,” he said, and Remus nodded. “We should go inside.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Remus chewed his lip, and looked up through his eyelashes at Sirius, causing his heart to flutter like the wings of a moth. “Five more minutes?” He smiled coyly. Sirius, helpless to do anything, nodded, and cast his eyes back out over London as the anchoring feeling of Remus’s head returned to his chest. Sirius’s heartbeat was smothered in the shape of Remus’s face pressed against his faded Sex Pistol’s tshirt, the curls brushing, almost tickling him, even through the fabric, the synchronicity of their breath and the gentle hum of a London evening the only sound audible over the voice in his ears, just whispering that name in that familiar Welsh lilt. <strong>Remus, Remus, Remus.</strong></em>
</p><p>
  <em>He felt their fingers intertwine under the covers, and he inhaled the smell of Remus, the cinnamon and the cigarettes, the tea and the vinyls, old books and herbal tea, the utter, resolute sweetness of him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sometimes it was hard to believe Remus Lupin didn’t love him back.<br/>
</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“... in a good year or so,” Sirius finished, voice suddenly quiet, and James cocked his head to one side, almost knowingly.</p><p>“Well, you love them. So you’re having one now.”</p><p>Sirius didn’t say anything, just gnawed at his lip, desperately trying to chase away the phantom of Remus’s kiss. James handed him a cold cup, payed the cashier, and herded Sirius to a table, who complied numbly, ears deaf to the mindless chatter streaming from his friend’s mouth. He sat with his back to the door, swinging his booted feet and sipping on his drink.</p><p>“Sirius?” James was asking him a question, and he grunted in response. “I said, have you thought about work?”</p><p>“What about it?” Sirius looked up at James through the hair fallen into his eyes. James smiled crookedly.</p><p>“Well, you liked it there, didn’t you?”</p><p>Sirius shifted in irritation. He didn’t <em>want</em> to talk about his job, or anything from life before. He ducked back down to his coffee. “Yeah, it was alright.”</p><p>“And it paid the bills.” James persisted.</p><p>“James,” Sirius looked up again. “I’m filthy rich.”</p><p>James sucked in a startled breath, and Sirius rolled his eyes. “James, you already knew that I-”</p><p>But he was interrupted by the door tinkling as people entered, and James’s eyes went even wider, his copper skin turning grey.</p><p>“Prongs, wh-” Sirius turned around in his seat to see what had rattled his friend so much, and the breath died in his throat.</p><p>Remus stood in the doorway. Smiling. <em>Laughing.</em></p><p>With his arm around someone else.</p><p>Sirius felt his heart plummet to his stomach, a thick wave of queasiness crashing over him as blood seemed to roar in his ears. Remus was as tall as ever - <em>he’s not going to have shrunk, you dumb prat</em> - leaning on a man a little taller than Sirius. Sirius’s mind dimly flickered with recognition: Benjy Fenwick, a regular at the B&amp;B. He was a plain sort of thing, nowhere near handsome enough for Remus - though that was probably all in his head. Soft brown eyes that crinkled at the corners, an easy smile, and kind hands. Hands currently clasped in Remus’s as his arm slid off his shoulder, tugging Benjy towards the counter, still animatedly chattering away. Sirius’s heart clenched with jealousy, and hatred.</p><p>Remus was different - he looked happy, sure, whatever the fuck that meant - but he wasn’t as blisteringly powerful as usual, not the mischievous whirlwind. He seemed… calm. Content. Normal. </p><p>But nothing about Moony had ever been <em>normal.</em> Remus was life, and love, and laughter. He was the crackling light of a firework; he was the wind in Sirius’s hair riding Elvendork at 3am; he was the <em>moon</em>. Normal seemed a word to foreign for someone like Remus. He seemed to have retreated back into himself. Sirius wanted to haul Benjy by the shirt, drag him off his Remus, and breathe life back into him, coax him through the mundanity, the <em>simplicity</em> that Benjy had infected him with.</p><p><em>This is in your head,</em> a voice whispered, and he couldn’t tell who’s it was. <em>You’re envious. He’s found happiness. Without you.</em></p><p>Sirius swallowed, throat dry. It was as if the whole world was slowing down, and he could see nothing but Remus, beautiful Remus, with his <em>hand in someone else’s.</em></p><p><em></em> Remus turned, and Sirius’s heart stopped with a sickening thud.</p><p>“Prongs!” Remus smiled, not seeing Sirius at first. Of course, James was hard to miss: hair like antlers and a bright red t-shirt on, he was pretty fucking visible. “Hey! How-”</p><p>Sirius thought that maybe Remus’s mind had seen him before his eyes had, but he registered the moment it happened. All colour seemed to drain from Remus’s face, leaving only two crimson spots on the tip of his cheekbones and the blazing amber of his tawny eyes. His mouth parted slightly, like it did when he would first wake, a single puff of breath fleeing from them. His grip on Benjy went slack.</p><p>Sirius was frozen, completely and utterly paralysed. He hadn’t seen Remus in 9 months. but he was so fucking startled at how well he could remember his face, his body, his aura, like it was etched in the stone of Sirius’s subconscious. He could probably draw it in his sleep. He’d know him blind.</p><p>“Babe?” Benjy prodded Remus, two cups still in his hand.</p><p>Hazelnut frappuccinos.</p><p><em>Babe.</em> Sirius made an involuntary noise of indignance. <em>Who the fuck did he think he was?</em></p><p>“Babe? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”</p><p>Sirius wanted to scream, to smack <em>his</em> hazelnut drink right out of Benjy’s hands, and yell in his face until he was hoarse. <em> Speak to my Moony like that again, I dare you.</em></p><p><em>Not your Moony.</em> The voice said, and Sirius bit back the clawing sting of tears. <em>Not anymore. Never was. Never will be.</em></p><p>“B-Benjy,” Remus started, eyes still locked on Sirius, whose hands were clenched around the plastic of his coffee cup. “This is James, and…”</p><p>He never got to finish his sentence. Everything seemed to spill into overdrive in Sirius’s mind, every synapse and cable and fissure just popping, sparking, short-circuiting, and a tidal wave of emotions, <em>so many emotions</em> just crashed down on him. He stood up, abruptly, too fast, chair making a wretched groan across the hardwood floor. Some people turned to look at him.</p><p>“Sirius-” James started, but Sirius was already moving. He couldn’t bring himself to look at anyone. </p><p>“I think I- I think I’m going to be sick,” he mumbled, words spilling out, probably backwards, probably in the wrong order. </p><p>“Sirius,” James repeated, but Sirius shook his head, pulling away, needing to get out, needing to be <em>free</em>. The December afternoon nearly two years ago choked him - Remus was a stranger again. Tears threatened, and he shouldered his way to the door, not caring who was looking. He fumbled with the door knob, hands slipping, fingers trembling. He registered James approaching him.</p><p>“Sirius-” Sirius got hold of the door, and flung it open, the bell chiming with a sickening, mocking tune. Sirius stumbled out, wincing in the bright daylight, and whirled around, catching a last glimpse of Puddifoot’s. James stood in the doorway, face wretched, guilt and shock and apology twisting his normal geniality. And there was Remus, as still as fucking stone, eyes locked on Sirius’s, hands hanging at his side. Hurt. Hurt and anger and fucking <em>pain</em> was written all across him. Sirius stumbled, feeling bile rise up in his throat, and turned. Head pounding and heart stammering he began to walk - no, run - in the general direction of his flat, two syllables crying over and over and over again in his mind.</p><p>Remus, Remus, Remus.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Some Sunsick Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>two lovesick idiots reminisce on the times they should have treasured, but didn't.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW scars, insecurity<br/>where'd all the time go by dr dog</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Where'd all the time go?<br/>
It's starting to fly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>See how the hands go,<br/>
Waving goodbye.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And you know I get so forgetful,<br/>
When I look in your eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>---------</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I think I could have loved you<br/>
better than anybody,<br/>
and I can't stop making lists<br/>
of all the times I almost told you that.<br/>
That's what I'm doing.<br/>
I'm twisting our story until<br/>
it stops remembering you<br/>
just so I can sleep at night.<br/>
But I'll always be here,<br/>
hands like a broken record that skips<br/>
at the sleepless night before you<br/>
crawled back into yourself for good.<br/>
Just know that I've been waiting.<br/>
Know that you're the first time I ever<br/>
swallowed my pride and then spit<br/>
it back up.<br/>
I hope you remember what your<br/>
bed felt like with me laying<br/>
honest in it.<br/>
That is what brave looked like."<br/>
<strong>-Caitlyn Siehl</strong><br/>
</em>
</p><p>---------</p><p>“You knew, didn’t you?” Sirius asked quietly. James sat on the other side of the table, Lily next to him.</p><p>“Sirius-” Lily started, voice soft and pitiful. Sirius didn’t need that. He’d had enough pity.</p><p>“No,” Sirius interrupted. “James. You knew. So did you, Lils. You knew he was with Benjy.”</p><p>James said nothing.</p><p>“Don’t lie to me, Prongs,” Sirius’s voice slipped. “How long?”</p><p>The silence was deafening, so long and cloaking, stretching so far, that Sirius didn’t think it would ever end.</p><p>“6 months,” he said quietly, eyes downcast at the table.</p><p>“6 months?” Sirius could barely utter the words.</p><p>“I- I thought if I told you then, then-” James struggled. “I didn’t want to risk your recovery.”</p><p>“Recovery?” Sirius spat. “I’m not a fucking charity case.” He pushed his chair back and was in his room with the door locked before anyone could say another word, stereo turned up as loud as can be and water running at high speed, so no one could hear the sound of his tears.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>IN THE YEARS BEFORE</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>REMUS<br/>
DECEMBER</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Holy fuck. Remus nearly choked on the tea he’d poured for himself by the counter. This was not in today’s agenda.</p><p>Today’s to-do list had consisted of shouldering through his first shift, without making too much of a fool of himself, then go home to Calypso and watch Dead Poet’s again, maybe cry over Neil, and sleep.</p><p>Nearly having a fucking heart attack at the literal human Adonis that just came into the store was not anything on the to do list. Having heart attacks in general was pretty low down on the desirables.</p><p>But what else could he do? The man that had just walked into the shop was fucking incredible - a chiselled, aristocratic face, all angles and shadows and breathtakingly sharp, with midnight blue eyes, thick eyelashes and even thicker eyeliner, and black hair that brushed his collarbone , cut into a curly mullet, spilling down past his ears. Laden with jewellery and covered in paint, he was straight out of the Sistine Chapel. Remus felt his heart flop and his ears grow warm as the man idly approached the counter, black Doc Martens slapping against the wood. He flashed a smile and a wink to Dorcas over in the music section, and Remus was very, very glad he hadn’t turned his attention to him yet.</p><p>But when he did, Remus wished he could crawl into a hole and die. The man turned, and, resting eyes on Remus, a small puff of breath as his eyes widened in surprise. Momentarily, the guise of cheek and charm that seemed to ooze off the man in fucking tidal waves vanished, and his ridiculously high cheekbones sported a flush of red. Then his eyes narrowed, full mouth turning into a thin line, and he glared. Yep, Remus was sure. That was a glare - and a really, really filthy one at that.</p><p>“Uh, hi!” Remus smiled brightly, and the dark-haired man cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head to one side, still looking thoroughly unimpressed. “What can I get for you?”</p><p>“Flat white, please,” the man responded curtly, drumming his painted fingernails on the counter.</p><p>Remus, don’t you dare-”Could I get a name?” He poised with a marker and a coffee cup.</p><p>“Sirius.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>REMUS<br/>
JANUARY</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>“He hates me, Dor,” Remus sighed, still crouched, pushing the bottles of syrups around under the counter. “He’s so mean.”</p><p>“Sirius is not mean,” Dorcas snorted, filling her cup with frothed milk. Her and Remus had struck up an unlikely friendship, and it had made his first month here considerably tolerable. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the job - of course he did. But a certain regular customer made it all the worse. A certain regular, and very, very beautiful customer, that was.</p><p>“Besides,” Dorcas commented around a mouthful of coffee, wiping the foam from her top lip. “You ask him for his name every time he comes in - which is a good three or four times a day, at least.”</p><p>Remus smirked to himself, leaning his back against the counter. Given his height, despite the raised countertops, it was more his lower hip. “That’s funny though,” he smiled cheekily, eyebrows raised. “I’m humbling him.”</p><p>Dorcas nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve known Sirius for a long time, and you’re right. Humbling could go a long way.”</p><p>Remus laughed, just as he heard the door open, feeling the cold January air sweep through the warm store. He turned, ready to serve a cappuccino to an old lady who should definitely not be having that much caffeine, to find the moody face of Sirius Black standing there. He looked as effortlessly incredible as he always did, and Remus noticed he had rimmed his lower lashline with purple eyeliner today, and the top with kohl, which sent a sucker punch right to Remus’s chest. His eyebrow, perpetually quirked, almost told him off for not being as composed as Sirius. Complete in a leather jacket, those fucking Doc Martens and a Le Tigre t-shirt, Remus might as well have been a goner.</p><p>Sirius cleared his throat, and Remus realised he’d been staring.</p><p>“Uh, hi. What can I-”</p><p>“Flat white,” Sirius drawled in his clipped Londonian accent, that high class sniff that should’ve bothered Remus’s Welsh village core, but absolutely didn’t. Remus faintly wondered if he spoke French - most upper class kids did. Remus was fluent too - they could speak French to one another. That would be sexy.</p><p>Blinking, Remus nodded, realising he was still silent. “Uh, yeah,” he nodded. “Coming right up.”</p><p>A few days later, he kissed him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>REMUS<br/>
FEBRUARY</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Remus Lupin: sworn enemy of Valentines Day. He hated it, hated the commercialisation, the consumerism, the sickening pink and red hearts. He hated relationships, sappiness, and all that fucking crap.</p><p>So, Remus, he wondered, hand still on the door to Full Moon. Why the fuck are you about to sign up for Sirius’s art class?</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>REMUS<br/>
FEBRUARY</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Remus stared at the ceiling, watching the unfurling plumes of smoke trickle over the painted moons, from the cigarette Sirius was passing back to him.</p><p>I just slept with Sirius Black, was the only coherent thought in his head.</p><p>I am in Sirius Black’s bed, with a split lip from Fabian Prewett, and I have just. Fucking. Slept. With. Sirius. Black.</p><p>Sirius passed him the cigarette again, and he tugged on it wordlessly.</p><p>Oh, Remus. You are so fucking stupid.</p><p>“Are you alright?” Sirius’s voice, smooth as silk - which it really shouldn’t be given how much he smokes - hummed on Remus’s chest. Sirius tilted his face upwards from where it lay to stare at Remus, quiet, observing. His blue eyes bored into Remus, nestled in his bones.</p><p>“Yeah,” he smiled, truthfully, inhaling the scent of Sirius, holding him steadfast. He tapped the cigarette out in the ashtray. “Yeah. You’re magic.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Sirius stretched, and leaned over, propped up on his elbows. “Aren’t you warm?”</p><p>Remus still had his shirt on - he’d let Sirius feel underneath it, and secretly he loved the way the artist’s fingers traced his scars, like he was painting them. But he hadn’t taken it off. He couldn’t. What would Sirius say? What would he think?</p><p>“No,” he shook his head, lips twisting, and Sirius reached forward, brushing a lock of auburn curl away from Remus’s forehead. Every single touch Sirius left on him was static, alive and thrumming, like an electric wire split in two. Sirius’s eyes shifted, the weight of understanding settling in the blue pools.</p><p>“Okay,” Sirius smiled softly. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>SIRIUS<br/>
MARCH</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>It was Remus’s birthday, and Remus was, now, officially, a marauder.</p><p>Which meant a fucking apeshit party.</p><p>“I’m only turning 21,” Remus protested, and Sirius gasped, hand over his heart. That was Remus, through and through. He wasn’t fucking up the wall, on the ceiling, like Sirius and James were. If he had it his way, he’d probably be watching that fucking sad nerd movie, Sick Poet’s Club, or something like that. But Sirius was his friend, and he would hear no such thing.</p><p>“21 is huge!” Sirius protested, jumping on the couch, delighted in the way Remus rolled his eyes, covert smile hidden under a pretense of irritation. It was nearly a month since they’d first slept together, and Remus was always pulling the eye roll like they didn’t spend every spare moment together.</p><p>You ought to see him less, Sirius had chastised himself far earlier in the day, in Remus’s bathroom. You’re going to get attached.</p><p>But Sirius couldn’t help it - it was the best month he’d ever had. And it wasn’t just that the sex was good - though it was - it was that Remus was good. Remus was warm, he was fucking hilarious, he was kind, and every moment spent with him was just, purely and simply, good.</p><p>“Plus,” Sirius leaned over, ruffling Remus’s hair, who ducked away and grabbed Sirius’s wrist in those slender hands. “I haven’t given you your birthday present.”</p><p>Remus’s hand was still encircling Sirius’s wrist, and he raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said, that,” he nodded to the ajar door of his bedroom, where the two had been only moments earlier, “was my birthday present.”</p><p>“Pervert,” Sirius pulled his arm free and launched a pillow at Remus, who spluttered in indignation. “I have an actual present.”</p><p>Sirius bounded up to his bag hanging by the door, and pulled out the special edition of Dead Poets Society. One benefit of being over at Remus’s a lot in the last month was that Sirius had had the time to look at all his books, and thus deduce he definitely did not have this sexy, sexy copy of the book.</p><p>Sirius held it up triumphantly, delighted in the way Remus’s eyes widened in surprise. The amber face broke into a grin as he took the book off Sirius - and then something unexpected happened.</p><p>He swooped Sirius up into a hug, spinning him round, and planted a kiss right on his forehead.</p><p>“Brilliant,” he breathed.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>REMUS<br/>
APRIL</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>“I fucking love Easter,” Remus hummed as Sirius passed him the cigarette, and he felt Sirius laugh against his chest, the warm quiver of a chuckle against his bare skin.</p><p>“Only because you like chocolate so much,” Sirius reasoned, stubbing out the embers of the cigarette in the ashtray next to Remus’s bed.</p><p>“You’re not wrong,” Remus admitted, rolling Sirius off and planting a firm kiss to his lips before swinging his long legs over the side of the bed, standing up and stretching. He felt Sirius shift behind him, hearing the bed compress as the other man raised onto his knees and encircled Remus’s waist with his arms.</p><p>“Up so soon?”</p><p>“You’re so lazy,” Remus laughed, turning round, still in Sirius’s arms. “Haven’t we just slept for 12 fucking hours?”</p><p>Something flickered over Sirius’s face, a shadow, a flinch of sorts, but then he blinked, and it was gone. Sirius tilted his head, cocking it, and then a wry smile crept onto his lips. Remus looked down at him, breathless, unbelieving.</p><p>How did I get someone so beautiful? He wondered, wishing he could dip his face low and kiss the tip of Sirius’s pixie nose.</p><p>And then: you didn’t get him, because he’s not yours. And he doesn’t want to be.</p><p>“Coffee?” Remus smiled weakly, and Sirius let go of him, flinging himself down onto the bed dramatically, then looking up at Remus through his thick black eyelashes.</p><p>“You know me so well,” he called as Remus trudged to the door, still stretching the night away.</p><p>No, Remus thought. I don’t know you at all.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>REMUS<br/>
MAY</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Remus loved Mayday - it was his favourite time of the year. Having grown up in Wales, they always celebrated Calan Haf when he was a kid. Before he had to leave.<br/>
May Day was a bit different in London - he supposed it was the way the English were. They still had the maypole, of course, but most Londonians just used it as an excuse to get obliviated on beer and enjoy the rare snippets of late spring sunshine.</p><p>So it really, really caught him by surprise when he dragged himself out of bed on the 1st of May to someone banging at the door , and to thus discover that person was, in fact, Sirius Black.</p><p>“Blessed Bealtaine!” Sirius crowed, tumbling into the flat with James and Lily in tow. Remus rubbed his sleepy eyes, still not quite registering what was going on, until Sirius physically tackled him to the sofa and sat up on his chest like an overeager puppy.</p><p>“I- what?” Remus mumbled, digesting that there were now three other people in his apartment, it was 9am, and he was in only pyjama pants.</p><p>Shit. He was only in pyjama pants. Desperately he tried to wiggle out of sight of Sirius’s roomates, shrinking in on himself, but Sirius didn’t notice. Or if he did, his methods were unusual - instead, he draped himself across Remus, sitting squarely on his chest, his huge band t-shirt spilling over and covering everything. He was surprisingly light. Well, Remus thought. At least I’m covered.</p><p>“Blessed Bealtaine!” Sirius repeated, and then his brow furrowed. “Or at least, I think that’s what it’s called, right? The Celtic May Day.”</p><p>Remus looked curiously at Sirius, who blinked.</p><p>“In Wales we call in Calan Mai, or Calan Haf,” Remus smiled, and Sirius broke into a grin.</p><p>“Well!” He sat back, satisfied. “Happy Calan Mai, Moony.”</p><p>He looked as though he was about to bend down and kiss Remus on the cheek, but stopped himself half way.</p><p>“Prongs, Lilypad,” Sirius turned his head, while Remus still lay, sufficiently crushed and hidden from view in the throes of his crappy sofa. “Could you make us some tea, please?”</p><p>James Potter would never say no to Sirius, so he simply grinned that toothy grin, nodded, and disappeared through the doorway to Remus’s kitchen, Lily on his arm. As soon as he was gone, Sirius sat back, sliding off Remus.</p><p>“There you go.” He jerked his head towards the bedroom.</p><p>“Huh?” was all Remus said, still caught up in the whirlwind of Sirius and his best friends. Had they really come to his flat for Welsh May Day, or was he hallucinating?</p><p>“They’re gone. You can go put a shirt on now, if you like.”</p><p>“Oh,” Remus said dumbly, looking down at himself, then back up at Sirius, trying desperately to ignore the tidal rush of affection that swamped his chest. He blinked a few times, and then, in a daze, shuffled back to the bedroom.</p><p>“Oh, and Moony?” Sirius called gently as Remus neared the door. He turned to look at the black-haired man. “I think they’re beautiful.” And then he was gone, bounding to the kitchen.</p><p>Remus shut the door softly, stuffing his fist in his mouth to muffle the sound of his tears.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>JUNE<br/>
SIRIUS</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>The 21st of June was Sirius’s favourite day of the year, always.</p><p>21st - the longest day. And the shortest night.</p><p>Of course, he would never tell anyone that - but he loved it nonetheless. He was always awake, for hours on end, and today, the sunshine made it so that no one could question him.</p><p>Even better, he’d get to spend the longest day of the year with Remus.</p><p>
  <em>20TH JUNE</em>
</p><p>padfootissexy: wyd tomo, have u got the day off work</p><p>moonysbigbum: day off<br/>
moonysbigbum: dead poets methinks<br/>
moonysbigbum: im thinking about getting another cat</p><p>padfootissexy: u do realise what those three messages look liked together?<br/>
padfootissexy: dear god moony<br/>
padfootissexy: ur 21<br/>
padfootissexy: act like it</p><p>moonysbigbum: dead poets is a great movie stfu</p><p>padfootissexy: ive got the day off tomorrow too</p><p>moonysbigbum: do u wanna watch dps w me</p><p>padfootissexy: pass</p><p>moonysbigbum: asshole :(</p><p>padfootissexy: ur spending the day w me<br/>
padfootissexy: no objections<br/>
padfootissexy: bc idc</p><p>moonysbigbum: would i ever say no to you</p><p>padfootissexy: norp</p><p>moonysbigbum: why whats tomo</p><p>padfootissexy: moony????<br/>
padfootissexy: djhsdudsjv<br/>
padfootissexy: ihy</p><p>moonysbigbum: tf?</p><p>padfootissexy: SFGDFSHFO<br/>
padfootissexy: how did i get mixed up w a man like u<br/>
padfootissexy: its the longest day!!!!!<br/>
padfootissexy: the summah solstice!<br/>
padfootissexy: midsummer!<br/>
padfootissexy: get ur tits oouuuttttt</p><p>moonysbigbum: tits are out</p><p>padfootissexy: good chap<br/>
padfootissexy: picking u up tmro at 9am<br/>
padfootissexy: ok</p><p>moonysbigbum: uhhhhh ok</p><p>padfootissexy: im thinking animal sacrifice<br/>
padfootissexy: wooden pyramid<br/>
padfootissexy: midsummer queen flower dress<br/>
padfootissexy: uno the vibes</p><p>moonysbigbum: im locking my door now</p><p>padfootissexy: cya tmro bundah boy ;)</p><p>moonysbigbum: i hate u</p><p>padfootissexy: xxxxx</p><p> </p><p>Sirius rapped on Remus’s door impatiently. Where was he? He’d been stood out here for at least five minutes now. Sighing, he knocked again, harder this time.</p><p>“Jesus, I’m coming!” That Welsh accent Sirius had grown so unbelievably fond of sounded from the other side of the door, and then the cracked wood of Remus’s flat’s entrance swung open. Remus stood, one hand on the door frame and another on the door itself, curls looking as atrociously wild as James’s always did, dressed in corduroy pants and a dark green jumper that frayed at the edges, the hems and threads curling like split ends.</p><p>Sirius pushed in, depositing his jacket on the sofa, and whirled round to greet Remus.</p><p>“Hiya,” he ruffled a hand through Remus’s hair, and then pinched his hollow, scarred cheeks, and grinned at the bashfulness that overtook Remus.</p><p>“Hey,” Remus grinned back, stooping in low for a kiss, and then seemingly changing his mind. But that was good, right? That’s what was needed, right? Because affection - no, that was too much. They weren’t a couple. They were just… friends. Friends who had way too much sex and saw each other at least once every day, and had since that one night in February…</p><p>No. That was friendship - a funny friendship, sure, but friendship nonetheless. He saw James and Lily every day, so why did it matter if he saw Remus every day. He worked across from him, right? 3 coffees a day wasn’t too much, right?</p><p>Right.</p><p>“Right!” Sirius chirped. “Are you ready to capitalise on the sunshine?”</p><p>Remus shrugged dopily. “Sure.”</p><p>“Christ, did you sleep in that, Moons?” Sirius stood back to survey Remus, looking him up and down, chewing the corner of his lip. “Why aren’t you dressed?”</p><p>Remus’s brow furrowed. “I am. This is what I’m wearing.”</p><p>“Oh!” Sirius cocked his head in surprise. He’d chosen a more of an open skin approach today - as in, a leather mini skirt and an oversized button up that he didn’t really… button up, much. Today was forecast for blistering weather. “Won’t you get warm?”</p><p>“I’ll be fine,” Remus smiled, weakly. “Where are we off?”</p><p>“Oh come on, Moony,” Sirius whined, making a beeline for the bedroom. “What about shorts? Do you have shorts?”</p><p>“Padfoot, honestly, I’m fine-”</p><p>“T-shirt? I like this Mott The Hoople one, you know I do!”</p><p>“I like this jumper-”</p><p>“A-ha! I knew you had some shorts!” Sirius brandished some stonewash denim triumphantly. “Now, how about one of my tops, show some skin-”</p><p>“Christ Sirius, will you just leave it?” The harsh voice snapped Sirius out of his clothes-filled daydream - he’d been too busy wielding various fabrics and insisting on them to realise Remus growing more and more agitated - and now he stood, face slightly pink and lips puckered, eyebrows twisted in conflict.</p><p>Sirius gently put the clothes down, confused.</p><p>“Okay, Moony, I’m sorry-” he started softly, but Remus just sighed and turned on his heel, yelling something over his shoulder about the kettle - his whole stance was traced with agitation, narrow shoulders hunched in on themselves. Sirius padded after him, quietly, poking his head around the corner of the kitchen doorframe.</p><p>“Alright, Moons?” he enquired, leaning languidly, trying not to show the desperation and need to embrace Remus that was etched through his bones.</p><p>“Fine.” Remus’s response was gruff, and he continued to clatter with two mugs.</p><p>Sighing, Sirius approached him, and broke the cardinal rule - no affection. It was a rule he seemed to find himself consistently defying more and more these days, but if Remus objected, he certainly never showed it. Sirius snaked his arms around the taller mans waist, the height difference between them meaning he could only rest his head just south of Remus’s shoulder blades. Instantly, as soon as Sirius’s arms, coiled with wiry muscle and tattoos, yet gentle with an artists touch, wrapped around his body, Remus instantly softened. And Sirius felt it. They stood there like that for a bit, Remus gently mixing coffee and Sirius with his forearms and hands clasped over Remus’s stomach, black-haired head perched gently on Remus’s sweater clad back. Then Sirius spoke.</p><p>“It’s okay, you know,” Sirius started, gentle, feeling the softness of Remus harden again, the muscles of his narrow back tensing. “No, no,” Sirius soothed, still wrapped around him like ivy. “We don’t have to talk about it, not if you don’t want. But, I think you’re gorgeous.”</p><p>Remus turned then, and Sirius’s arms found themselves clasped at the small of his back. He looked down at Sirius, curls hanging low, almost covering his eyes, and Sirius stood on his tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his nose.</p><p>“You’re the beautiful one, Sirius,” Remus murmured, still looking down at him, and Sirius shook his head, laughing through his nose.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fucking hot. But you - you’re beautiful,” Sirius brushed a curl away from Remus’s brow, shaking his head wryly. “Especially to me. I lo-”</p><p>He clapped his mouth shut. Shit. What was that?</p><p>He didn’t love Remus - of course he didn’t. He liked him, sure, fancied the pants off of him - but love? God, the sun must’ve been getting to his head. Sirius Black, in love? Preposterous. Yeah, Remus was great - fuck great, Remus was incredible. He was funny, one of the funniest people Remus knew, and yeah, he made his heart warm and his stomach tingle and the back of his neck hot. That was just friendship. Where had that even come from? He’d never really thought about it before, about loving Remus. He didn’t even really know what it felt like. Maybe he should get some more sleep.</p><p>“I like your hair,” he supplied lamely, and Remus cocked his head.</p><p>“Good to know. Do you want this coffee?”</p><p>“Nah.” Sirius pressed another kiss to Remus’s scarred nose, glad the moment had gone, and Remus hadn’t noticed. “Let’s get out of here, eh? The day awaits.”</p><p>It wasn’t helpful, or healthy. But it would have to do, for now.</p><p> </p><p>It was late afternoon, and the sun still hung low and heavy in the sky. Sirius had insisted on ice cream (“I’ll pay, Moony!” “It’s not the money, Padfoot, it’s the fact we’re in our twenties.” “Early twenties.”) and the two of them were weaving through the throngs of London-goers.</p><p>“Regent?” Sirius asked, one hand on the small of Remus’s back and the other wrapped around an ice cream cone (a tub would’ve been bad for the environment, of course).</p><p>Remus turned to him, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.</p><p>“Go on then.”</p><p>He let Sirius tug him through the crowd, hands now clasped, ice cream mercilessly melting under the beating summer sun, until they were safely in Regent’s Park, the sweet smell of midsummer flowers and the hum of honeybees filling their ears as they found a bench to finish their ice cream off. Sirius had bubblegum and strawberry - basically the brightest ones around, and Remus had, of course, gotten chocolate and honeycomb. He yelped as Sirius took a huge spoon of his, unable to hide the grin on his face.</p><p>“Why do you even like midsummer’s so much?” Remus asked around a mouthful of ice cream, and Sirius just shrugged.</p><p>“Just like the sun,” he lied, sucking thoughtfully on the wooden spoon from Fortescue’s. He didn’t need one, but he liked scooping it off the cone anyway. James always picked on him for it. “It’s always warm.”</p><p>Remus hummed noncommittally. “Sometimes the sun makes me feel sick.”</p><p>“What?” Sirius barked in laughter, taking another spoon of Remus’s chocolate ice cream. “You get sunsick?”</p><p>Remus flushed pink and smirked. “Well, yeah. I don’t know. I just do.”</p><p>“Are you sunsick right now?” Sirius poked him with the toe of his Doc Marten.</p><p>“This whole day is sunsick,” Remus quipped back, the warm ochre of the 4pm sun glinting of his honeyed curls and amber eyes. How could someone who was the sun, possibly be sunsick?</p><p>“Some sunsick day,” Sirius mused thoughtfully, sensing that maybe the fact his tongue was blue may undermine his serious tone. “That sounds like a book.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Remus had finished his ice cream, not without Sirius’s help, and had now moved onto the waffle cone. He snapped a bit off with his hand and nibbled it. “What would it be about?”</p><p>Sirius considered for a moment, then smiled. “A love story!”</p><p>“Really?” Remus snorted around the cone.</p><p>“Yes!” Sirius threw the wooden spoon at him - he’d finished the ice cream now, and he munched on the sweet waffle as he continued. “A love story, I think. A nice one. Maybe bittersweet.”</p><p>“Who’re the lovers?” Remus asked, leaning backwards, stretching his arm out. Sirius, unable to help himself, leaned into it.</p><p>“A werewolf. And a wizard.”</p><p>“You’ve put a lot of thought into this, Pads,” Remus said against his hair, and the breeze of his breath tickled Sirius’s head.</p><p>“Nah, just a lot going on up here,” Sirius gestured to his forehead, then turned to look at Remus, kissing him. He tasted like chocolate and honeycomb, like the sweetness of the waffle cone and the bitterness of takeaway coffee. They usually didn’t kiss in public - or really do anything affectionate in public, lest they be spotted, but Sirius was drunk on sun and dizzy with honey-coloured whims, and he let himself break the rules, just for today.</p><p>“Mm,” Remus pulled away. His lips were stained blue, now. “You taste like bubblegum.”</p><p>“Tasty, right?” Sirius grinned cheekily, finishing off the rest of his waffle cone, and stood up, grabbing Remus’s hand, tugging him along. It fit perfectly. Too perfect. “Wanna order pizza and watch Dead Poet’s?”</p><p>Sirius tried to ignore the way his heart flipped when Remus’s face broke into a huge grin.</p><p>“Dead Poet’s? Really?” He bit his lower lip unconsciously, childishly excited, and Sirius hauled again, finally bringing the tall man up off the bench.</p><p>“Absolutely. Race you!”</p><p>Remus didn’t live anywhere near Regent’s Park, but they ran the whole way home. Home.</p><p> </p><p>“I love Nuwanda,” Sirius commented around a mouthful of pizza, while a Bowie record spun lazily on the turntable, the credits for Dead Poets Society rolling on the television.</p><p>“I knew you would,” Remus replied, flicking a fry at Sirius, who, unbelievably, caught it in his mouth. “He’s very much like you.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, Mr Todd Anderson,” Sirius snorted, and Remus threw his head back and laughed.</p><p>“I am not Todd!”</p><p>“You so are!” Sirius sat up, indignant. “All shy and shit. You’re such a Todd.”</p><p>Remus looked offended. “I am not shy!”</p><p>“No, not totally, but you are Todd. No arguments.”</p><p>“Fine, fine,” Remus assented, holding his hands up. “I’d kill to be back in Year 13, to be honest.”</p><p>“You would?” Sirius asked, surprised. “I’m not sure I would. I was a dick at 18.”</p><p>“You’re a dick now,” Remus snorted, scooting over and ruffling Sirius’s hair. It was something they did a lot. All friends had that sort of token act, and for them, it was ruffling the others hair. Sirius leaned into it.</p><p>“True. Maybe if I were Neil Perry, I’d go back to Year 13.”</p><p>“He dies!” Remus leaned back, shocked.</p><p>“Okay, not that bit,” Sirius grimaced. “But he has a twat of a dad and he fancies Todd Anderson. I identify with that.”</p><p>
  <em>Oh no.</em>
</p><p>“You fancy me!” Remus grinned triumphantly. “Ooh, Sirius Black has a crush!”</p><p>“It’s about to go away,” Sirius grumbled, turning away, but Remus grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back. Sirius laned with an “oof” in Remus’s lap, who laughed and kissed him, tilting his head up for once. And Sirius melted. What else could he do? Remus made him melt - it felt primitive to say, but there was really no other possible word to describe it.</p><p>“It’s alright,” Remus mumbled against his lips. “I fancy you too.”</p><p>Sirius pulled back, albeit reluctantly, lips pink and parted. “Oh?”</p><p>“Sirius. We’ve been shagging for 5 months. Yes I fancy you.”</p><p>Sirius snickered, Remus’s hands still woven round his back. “Show me, then.”</p><p> </p><p>Afterwards, they lay together on the sofa, the Bowie record still trawling along in its corner, the two of them cramped yet content on Remus’s sofa. Sirius lay half on top of Remus, legs tangled and head on his chest, and Remus lazily drew circles on Sirius’s temple, the scarred arm wrapped bare around him.</p><p>“You’re so beautiful,” Sirius murmured against Remus’s bare chest, the skin of scars brushing his cheek. “Scars included. They’rebeautiful. One of the most beautiful things about you.”</p><p>“Sirius-” Remus sighed, but Sirius continued, sitting up now. The movie still played in his head. <em>There is a time for daring, and there is a time for caution. And a wise man understands which is called for.</em></p><p><em>So be daring. </em>He whispered to his mind.</p><p>“No, Remus,” he propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at the other man, whose head was tilted up to his. The sun, still blazing bright, sunset nearing but yet to settle, peaked through the windows, casting the apartment, and Remus, in a golden glow. Remus looked up at him, face impassive yet eyes wide and cautious. “I think you’re bloody fucking beautiful. And I know-” he ploughed on, the words spilling out, “that me saying that doesn’t take away what you feel, or what you see, okay? I’m not going to pretend it does, but I’ll be here, eh? As long as you need it to be, I’ll wait around, until one day you look in the mirror and you see these-”</p><p>He traced the longest scar on Remus’s face, the one expanding down his nose and cheek, who closed his eyes gently.</p><p>“And realise ‘Christ! I’m bloody beautiful, and everyone should know it.’”</p><p>Remus swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes still closed, and Sirius leant down, ghosting his lips along it. “You’re beautiful, Moony.” He whispered it to his throat, and his skin, the scars that lay there. He breathed it to them, to the silver fibres, so that they may believe it too, they may dance upon his words and face the undeniable truth that Remus Lupin was more than just beautiful to Sirius Black.</p><p>Remus opened his eyes, and Sirius swore his heart bottomed out of his chest, his breath snatching away on the amber air. Remus took his face, and kissed him, feverish, passionate. An understanding passed between them, of words they both knew, or thought they knew, but wouldn’t say. It would be another 5 months of this, of the hushed conversations and movies and pizza, till Sirius admitted to himself that he was in love with Remus Lupin, but his heart, and body, perhaps they knew it then.</p><p> </p><p>“Balcony?” Remus called as Sirius left the bathroom, hair sticking up in all random places. There was a patio sofa out on the tiny balcony Remus had (“How did you even get that fucking furniture up here, Moons?”) and the sun was looking as though it was ready to set. Sirius nodded wordlessly, dread settling in his stomach as he wished desperately for a little bit more sunlight before the night inevitably came.</p><p>“Come on, then,” Remus tugged him outside, settling down on the rickety patio furniture, tapping the cushioned spot next to him. Sirius curled up, the comforting shape of Remus’s body encircling his, as the sun began to dip behind the horizon, shrouding them in an orange glow. He could’ve slept, right there, with Remus’s breathing coaxing his, with the gentle hands clasped. He didn’t, of course. But he could’ve, and that was what mattered for now.</p><p>
  <em>I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Remus?” Sirius asked sleepily, pen in his hand, doodling up Remus’s arms. They were still out on the balcony, and the stars watched above. Sirius daren’t look up.</p><p>“Yeah?” Remus murmured against Sirius’s hair, resting the hollow cheek on the crown of Sirius’s head.</p><p>“What are you afraid of?”</p><p>Remus was silent for a moment, then he spoke. “Life.”</p><p>“Life?” Sirius parroted.</p><p>“Yeah,” Sirius felt Remus nod against his head. “Yeah, I’m afraid of life. Of it going wrong, or being bad. Or not being real. You know?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sirius nodded. “I think I do.”</p><p>“What about you?” Remus asked, his arms still steadfast around Sirius’s unmoored form, an anchor.</p><p>“Oh,” Sirius grinned up at him. “Spiders. Bad hair days. Old cheese.”</p><p>Remus snorted. "You're delirious. Wanna go inside?"</p><p>"Nah," Sirius shook his head. "We've got time."</p><p>They hadn't had time, in the end.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Kintsugi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PLZ READ<br/>10K HITS WOW I AM ELATED, TYSM&gt; I LOVE U AND UR COMMENTS&gt; ILYSM<br/>hey hey! apologies in order. HAPPINESS IS COMING I PROMISE WE'VE GOT A COUPLE MORE CHAPTERS AND THEN SOME RLLY GOOD STUFF I PROMISE.<br/>btw, this isn't my only fic - i have a uni au in the works, a long haul fic coming out this summer, and some isolated character studies. i also have a spotify! 'kitchen roll &lt;3' check the descriptions of each playlist for what they are, there's two for this fic.<br/>LOVE U! i pinky promise imma bring some good stuff. swear it.</p><p>CW alcoholism, breakups, cussing</p><p>all i want by kodaline :')</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>All I want is nothing more,<br/>
To hear you knocking at my door.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'Cause if I could see your face once more,<br/>
I could die a happy man I'm sure.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When you said your last goodbyes,<br/>
I died a little bit inside.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I lay in tears, in bed all night.<br/>
Alone, without you by my side,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But if you loved me,<br/>
Why'd you leave me?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Take my body,<br/>
Take my body.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All I want is, all I need is,<br/>
To find somebody. I'll find somebody.<br/>
Like you.</em>
</p><p>-----------</p><p>
  <em>Break me.<br/>
Break me into beauty.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For my father once said,<br/>
'Through the hottest fire comes the purest gold.'<br/>
So break me.<br/>
For I burn and I melt<br/>
into cracks made<br/>
by careless hands that once held me closely.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Toss me to the flames<br/>
and break me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Break me into beauty.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>-'Kingtsugi', Lauren M Garica</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>-----------</p><p>Sirius stared down at the magazine, the artists edition that James had got for him. <em>Kintsugi,</em> it read, <em>is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.</em></p><p><em>Gold.</em> Sirius sighed, running a figure over the visage of cracks on the teal vase plastered in the magazine. It looked too much like Remus, and it hurt, an aching desperation in the bottom of his heart, an organ shattered into a million pieces. He needed Remus, needed the gold of him to rethread, to stitch his broken heart back together.</p><p>"I'm sorry," he whispered to the empty room, tears splashing the paper, the golden vases the only healed thing in the darkness of abandonment and aching loneliness, of a heart that didn't know how to love and a boy who wished he could.</p><p> </p><p>“Who put this shit on?” Sirius grumbled, stalking into the lounge. He’d heard the beginning notes of Five Years, that heartbeat symphony that indicated Slide One of the Ziggy Stardust album that he had definitely crammed under his bed was commencing.</p><p>It was November - the 1st, and people were over at the flat. Last night had been Halloween - usually Sirius’s favourite holiday of the year, but now he just wanted a coffee and a sketchpad and some paracetamol, and there were about 10 people milling around his place.</p><p>It wasn’t people he objected to - it was the said people currently swarming his home, all dovey and in love and happy, like the last two years had been fucking fun for them. </p><p>The first year had been, for Sirius. Of course it had - he’d had Remus. And just as soon as he’d got him, he’d lost him.</p><p>There were Lily and James, as perpetually in love as always; Mary and her new girlfriend (new of 8 months) Emmeline; Dorcas and Marlene; Kingsley and some new Scottish bird he’d cuffed; and Benjy fucking Fenwick. No Remus, thank God. </p><p>Sirius wanted a drink. It was a sort of simple thought that just spilled over in his mind all the time. I want a fucking drink.</p><p>He’d relapsed, around August time. He could remember James prying a bottle from a weeping Sirius, his face patterned in pity. Fucking pity. It was all anyone ever seemed to give Sirius these days. Pity, pity, pity. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Recovery isn’t linear, Padfoot,” James had soothed as Sirius had lolled his head back on the wall, movements sluggish, tears streaming softly from his eyes. He should’ve felt the sting of embarrassment, or shame, or guilt - he’d been sober for almost 8 months, and here he was again. But he didn’t have it in him to care, anymore. All the oblivion held in that bottle seemed to take it out of him, and he was thankful.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It wasn’t just Remus - of course, seeing him, remembering how he’d dashed away the only fucking chance at love he’d ever had, of course that propelled him towards the scotch. But it was the reminder that he was fucking unlovable, and that everything he touched turned to dust: what else could he do but drown himself, try desperately to flush away everything until only the feeble beating of his heart remained?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He didn’t know how to love - he didn’t even know what it was, what it felt like. The only approximation he had of the feeling was what he felt for James and his parents, but that was familial, tender, comforting. What he felt for Remus scared him, and he didn’t know how to describe it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sirius Black had never been in love until then, and his mother had scarred the meaning of the word.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So forgive him if he wanted a little drink.<br/>
</em>
</p><p>He was partially sober, again. It had been James’s idea: phase the alcohol out. Whatever. It didn’t matter. Most things didn’t. He was an alcoholic at 23, he couldn’t function off of it, and his friends pitied him. What a divine existence.</p><p><em>I’ll put it on a fucking banner,</em> he thought grumpily, surveying the laughing faces that now tilted towards him.</p><p>“So?” he pressed, and James smiled weakly.</p><p>“I did! It’s your birthday in a couple days - I know how much you love the Ziggy album.”</p><p>Sirius felt his mouth stretch into a line. “Not anymore,” was all he said, walking through to the kitchen. He knew what they were all thinking: how could whirlwind Sirius Black, the king of carefree living, be so bogged down by a messy breakup?</p><p>Was that what love felt like?</p><p>“Padfoot?” James came into the kitchen, but Sirius kept his back to him, still rummaging around for a mug. He tried to ignore the wildflower one that they kept for Remus’s herbal teas - he didn’t have the heart to throw it away, just yet, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at it. “You okay?”</p><p>“Why did you have to invite him?” Sirius muttered, quiet so no one but the two best friends could hear, shakily putting coffee grinds into Simon. “Why would you bring him here?”</p><p>James sighed, and, despite his back being turned, Sirius knew the glasses were perched atop his head and a broad hand was scrubbing his face.</p><p>“I mean, I didn’t - he was just sort of there, with Re-”</p><p>Sirius set the spoon down with a clang, and he heard James swallow.</p><p>“They were out, last night, and Benjy sort of invited himself back. I couldn’t say no. He came back and got absolutely wasted Sirius, honestly, I’ve never seen anyone chug beer so fast, it was like-”</p><p>“So where’s Remus?” Sirius finally turned, coffee on the brew.</p><p>James shrugged. His glasses were, indeed, on top of his head.</p><p>“Dunno. They had a bit of a tiff, and Remus got a cab home.”</p><p>“Was he drunk?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” James sniffed apologetically. “Probably. It was Hallowe-”</p><p>But Sirius wasn’t listening. He stood up. “He was drunk? And you let him get a cab home on his own?”</p><p>James blinked. “I mean, yeah, the bloke’s 23, I’m-”</p><p>Sirius was already shouldering past James, back into the living room, where all his friends sat, fucking <em>laughing</em>. Benjy looked tired, Sirius noted, his eyes red-rimmed.</p><p>“You,” he pointed at Benjy, who blinked, startled. “Outside. Now.”</p><p>“Huh?” was all Benjy said, blinking dopily, and Sirius realised he was probably still drunk. He wondered what their fight had been about - was it how dull Benjy was, how he sapped all the life force from Remus?</p><p>“I want to talk to you,” Sirius pressed, grabbing Benjy by the shoulder, who made a noise like a scolded child. Everyone watched on, but James piped up.</p><p>“Sirius, come on-”</p><p>“And someone turn that fucking racket off,” Sirius snapped, already hauling a - yes, definitely still drunk - Benjy to the door, which he lurched open. He pushed Benjy outside and slammed it behind him, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway.</p><p>“Where’s Remus?” He fastened his hands to his hips, trying to ignore how fucking matriarchal he looked.</p><p>As soon as he heard the name, Benjy’s face soured, his eyes going dark.</p><p>“At his shithole flat, probably,” Benjy spat, and Sirius flinched at the venom in his voice.</p><p>“So go talk to him? Why on earth would you let him get a cab home alone, while he was drunk?”</p><p>Benjy simply glared.</p><p>“Go check on your boyfriend-”</p><p>“He’s not my boyfriend.” Benjy interrupted, and Sirius blinked.</p><p>“I- what? Yes, he is-”</p><p>“No,” Benjy glowered, eyes still feverish and tipsy. “He dumped me. Last night.”</p><p><em>Shit,</em> was the only word circling through Sirius’s head. The air crackled and Benjy looked on, boring holes into Sirius’s forehead, his upset rolling off him in swathes. <em>Shit, shit, shit.</em></p><p>This was what he had wanted. He hated Benjy, and thought Remus was too good for him - shit, Remus was too good for anything. He should be delighted, he should be ecstatic, fuck, he should be happy. But he wasn’t. His stomach still gnawed and his head still hurt, his chest as perpetually empty as always, his body cold without Remus’s.</p><p>“I- I don’t understand-”</p><p>Benjy scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Last night, at the party, he just dumped me,” his voice cracked, and for a moment, a scared and sad boy peeked through. And then it was gone, the venomous visage tracking back over him. “I- I brought you up, it was stupid, and not the right time, but-”</p><p>“Me?” Sirius choked, his heart flopping erratically. “Why?”</p><p>“Because he still fucking loves you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Remus!” Sirius pounded on his door. “Remus! Open the fucking door!”</p><p>Tomorrow was Sirius’s birthday. Halloween was two days ago, and no one had heard from Remus once.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“What do you mean, he still loves me?” Sirius could barely get the words out.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“What the fuck do you think it means?” Benjy snapped, reaching for the door, but Sirius blocked his way.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“I- I-” Sirius stammered, head spinning. He opened his mouth and closed it again, and Benjy made a sound, a half sigh, dismayed and disgusted, and a half whimper, petulant and jealous.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Benjy looked like shit - Sirius could see it now - the red ring around his eyes was from crying, and his skin was sallow from over-drinking.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Halloween was your favourite holiday,” Benjy started, swallowing. The act looked as if it pained him. “And - shit, I knew he still liked you. I heard it.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“You heard it?” Sirius’s words were coming out small.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Benjy blinked, slowly, and when he opened his eyes, they were glassy. His lips twisted. “He mumbles your name. In his sleep.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“Oh,” Sirius said again, the wind in his lungs hissing out, until he was nothing but a cardboard cutout of himself, leaning on the doorway, head at lightspeed and heart thudding in his chest, sickening.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“And then- before we went out for the night, I found him with that book. That you got him. For his 22nd birthday.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Sirius knew the one - it was a special edition of Dead Poet’s. 3 months later, they’d watched the movie together, at midsummer’s.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“The one you wrote a note on the inside. He was reading it, and he looked like he was gonna cry,” Benjy ploughed on, face still strained, muscles of tension tightening his soft features. “But, shit, he didn’t see me. So I brought it up after I had too many beers, and fuck, it was bad, but I didn’t think-”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Benjy’s voice faltered, and he rubbed his eyes angrily. Sirius turned his head away, head swirling, every thought flashing in and out and in and out.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“I said he still loved you. And he denied it, but then-”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“He dumped you,” Sirius finished numbly, and Benjy nodded.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>“He- He told me not to come by. He said to enjoy the rest of the evening and that- that he was going home.”</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Right,” Sirius supplied lamely. “Right.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Remus!” Sirius shouted through the keyhole. “Look, I know you don’t want to talk, but Christ, just open the motherfucking-”</p><p>“What on earth are you yelling about, Sirius?” Mrs Figg, Remus’s neighbour, poked her head out. “Can you keep it down, please? Alfonso is scared.”</p><p>Sirius turned, bewildered. “Tell Alfonso the cat, I am so sorry, but I need to see Remus.” He started banging on the door again</p><p>“Remus!”</p><p>“Christ! He’s not bloody home!” Mrs Figg snapped. “He left on Halloween, told me to keep an eye on Calypso. Now will you shut the fuck up?” And then the old lady, who Sirius had never heard swear before, slammed her door, the metal sign on the front rattling.</p><p>“Shit,” Sirius mumbled, moving over to her door. “Shit, shit.” He knocked feebly. “Mrs Figg? Mrs Figg?”</p><p>“Good God man, what?” she snarked through the keyhole. “Just bloody go home! I preferred that Benjy chap.”</p><p>Sirius winced, but continued. “Did he say where he was going?”</p><p>“Home,” was all Mrs Figg said, and then turned on jazz as loud as she could, ignoring Sirius’s knocking on the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Where the fuck are you going, Sirius?” James and Lily blocked the doorway. </p><p>“Wales,” Sirius shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Home. Home. Where was home to Remus?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wales - he was definitely from Wales. Somewhere beginning with an R. He’d told Sirius. Some kind of valley.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He sat outside Remus’s apartment building, a third cigarette perched between his lips, his fingertips burnt and knee bouncing as he thumbed through Wikipedia.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Wales, R, R,” he muttered to himself, and then when he saw it, he dropped the fag, not bothering to stub it out. “The Rhondda,” he read. “Right. The Rhondda.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fingers shaking, he searched ‘The Rhondda Valley.’. He wondered how many people lived there.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maybe he should’ve listened more in Geography, because he sat for another hour outside of Remus’s flat.<br/>
</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Where in Wales?” James scoffed, and Sirius blinked, hand still wrapped around his backpack. It contained only the essentials - lots of cigarettes, drink if he needed it, money.</p><p>“Some town called Pontypridd,” Sirius supplied, pushing through the pair. “Gonna go find Remus.”</p><p>“Oh, Sirius,” Lily started, but he cut her off.</p><p>“Don’t ‘Oh, Sirius,’ me,” Sirius snapped, ignoring the guilt that twisted his gut. “I’m just going to check on him, okay?”</p><p>“You’re going to Wales to check on him…” James said slowly, but Sirius had already disappeared out of the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Remus?”</p><p>“Sirius?!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Hey, excuse me-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Prynhawn Da!” The lady at the market stall smiled, and babbled something off in Welsh. Sirius rubbed his eyes, wincing at the sunlight that flashed in and out of his vision. The train ride had been long, and he’d stared out of the window the entire time, for hours. The day was weary - sunset was soon, and he still had no idea how to find Remus. Pontypridd was sickeningly green.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Uh- English, please?” Sirius replied lamely, and the lady blinked, then smiled.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What can I do you for, love?” She ploughed on in a thick Welsh accent.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Erm, I’m looking for the Lupin residence? If - if you know who they are-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Shit. Was he going to meet his parents?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The lady’s face was unreadable. “You might have the wrong name-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No, no, it’s definitely Lupin,” Sirius continued, oblivious. “I need to-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Are you friends of theirs?” the lady asked carefully, and Sirius shifted uncomfortably. “When was the last time you heard from them?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sirius waved impatiently. “I’m friends with their son, can you just give me the address?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The lady swallowed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Please?”<br/>
</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“What- what are you doing here?”</p><p>“I wanted to see you.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The taxi trundled along, and Sirius watched the village - ‘Ponty’, the people called it - impassively. So this was where Remus had grown up. It was a far cry from London, from the bustling streets and flashing lights, but it was nice. Sirius thought maybe he’d have liked to be a child here. Then again, anywhere was better than Grimmauld Place.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Remus was here, and Sirius could almost taste him, the need to embrace him pounding through his chest like a drumbeat. I need you, Remus, I love you, I’m sorry.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dead Poets rung through his ears again.<strong> ‘There is a time for daring, and a time for caution. And a wise man understands which is called for.’</strong></em>
</p><p>
  <em><br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Perhaps Sirius was not a wise man, but he would be brave. For Remus, he would be brave. He loved him - or as much as he could, as much of an approximation as he could bring himself to. It might not have been enough, no, but it would have to do. Honesty was all that was left, and Sirius would tug it from himself, disentangle it from his limbs.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maybe they were broken, irreparable. Maybe the dust stayed dust, the shattered vases splintered on the floor, and no amount of kintsugi could repair it. Maybe the gold dust of Remus and Sirius, of their love, of the tender breaths and whispers and caresses - maybe it was gone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>But at least now, for once, he would be truthful.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>I love you, Remus. I love you, I love you, I love you-</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>His phone started to buzz, startling him, and he fumbled around in his pocket, sliding it out.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘UNKNOWN’ the number read.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sirius raised it to his ear, fingers drumming out the syllables of Remus on the dashboard.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hello?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p><em>“Hello, Sirius,” his mother said.</em><br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Tears Mingling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW car accident mentioned, scars, domestic abuse<br/>we're through the worst of it, i promise. three or more chapters. i swear i'll give ya something good.<br/>night we met by lord huron *sniff*<br/>i was going through wolfstar poetry (or unrequited love/sad af poetry) on pinterest and came across this phrase from caitlyn siehl and god if it doesn't sum up this chapter. i love siehl's work, i have a couple of her other poems scheduled to introduce the final chapters GO READ anyway ily x</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>I had all and then most of you,<br/>
Some and now none of you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Take me back to the night we met.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I don't know what I'm supposed to do,<br/>
Haunted by the ghost of you.</em>
</p><p><em>Oh, take me back to the night we met.<br/>
</em><br/>
------------</p><p>
  <em>I did not fall in love with you.<br/>
I was born on the floor.<br/>
Everything else was just remembering.<br/>
<strong>-Caitlyn Siehl</strong></em>
</p><p>------------</p><p>“Tell me you love me, Sirius.”</p><p>“I- I can’t. I just - I can’t. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I suppose that’s it then.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>EARLIER</em>
</p><p>Sirius didn’t have a lot of hate in his heart, and things didn’t rattle him. But this did. Christ, it did.</p><p>“Walburga,” he forced out, each syllable scraping along his throat as he dragged them from the depths of his consciousness. Never had it taken him so much strength to simply speak. He hadn’t heard from his mother in years.</p><p>
  <em>You are nothing to me, Sirius. Feel free to leave. It would be such a relief if you did.</em>
</p><p>“Always the manners, Sirius,” his mother commented, her clipped voice, the one he heard in his dreams and his darkness trilling through the receiver.</p><p>“What do you want?” He rasped, aware of how weak he sounded.</p><p>“My brother has passed,” she uttered it with the same sterile, uninterested sense of formality, as if she was reading off a shopping list.</p><p>“Yeah, no shit,” Sirius scoffed, anger bubbling up. Alphard had been dead for years.</p><p>“Not Alphard,” she hummed, and Sirius could almost imagine her examining her nails, painted red. “Cygnus.”</p><p>Sirius swallowed dryly. “Okay. What does that have to do with me?”</p><p>“Ordinarily, nothing,” Walburga sighed, and Sirius shivered, her voice too close for his liking. “But those silly little legal papers that Potter man made me sign when you ran away like a petulant child-”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake-”</p><p>“-state I have to inform you of any major family updates, sadly. That’s all.”</p><p>“I bet you’re devastated,” Sirius hummed, desperately clinging to an ideal of unbotheredness, determined to hold himself together at the seams. He was so close to Remus. So fucking close.</p><p>“Quite,” his mother murmured. “Can you inform Regulus, please?”</p><p>“Do it yourself,” he snapped.</p><p>“I would, but he’s blocked my number, the little child. Please tell him.”</p><p>“That’s all?” Sirius breathed, itching to hang up. Remus was near, he could still do it- he just had to hold on. Darkness tempted the corners of his vision, but he would push through. He would, for Remus.</p><p>“Yes. And oh, Sirius?”</p><p>“What?” He gritted his teeth. Nearly there. Remus, I love you, I love you-</p><p>“Love you, son,” she crooned, and the line went dead.</p><p>The phone dropped from his hand, falling to the floor of the taxi with a thud. He could still hear her laugh - he could almost see her right now, smiling cruelly at the phone. She knew. She knew.</p><p>Those words were Walburga’s weapons. Every time Sirius had taken a beating, or he’d spent a day in the cellar, or he lay, curled, on the dusty floor of the attic bedroom, the marks of her fingernails still impressed in his shoulder, spots of blood where she’d broken the skin - she would bend down, and whisper in his ear.</p><p>
  <em>“I’m doing this because I love you, Sirius.”</em>
</p><p>So that was what love was. Love was pain, and a fist to the jaw, his father’s boots on his head. Love was his mother’s red fingernails, cutting crescents into his skin. Love was the curved scar on his chest, burrowed by a tattoo but there nonetheless. Love was years of crying to the wall, holding Regulus as he sobbed, tending to his own wounds and bruises. Love was Grimmauld Place, and Walburga, and Orion, and the stars.</p><p>So that was what love was.</p><p>He couldn’t give that to Remus.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re here, Mister,” the taxi driver said. </p><p>“Huh?” Sirius blinked, slowly. He could still hear her. Was she here now?</p><p>“The Lupin residence. Your stop?”</p><p>Sirius swallowed. Yes, Remus - the Lupin residence. What had he been here to do? Tell him he <em>loved</em> him? Christ, what a stupid thought. If that was what love was, the whole world was fucking stupid.</p><p>“Mister?” the taxi driver prodded, and Sirius numbly handed him some money, legs moving of their own accord, and then he was on the doorstep, arms no longer autonomous, rapping on the door. For so long, he stood, knocking on the door.</p><p>“Christ, <em>what?</em>” Remus yanked the door open, and Sirius’s entire world crumbled. </p><p>He fell inwards, into him, tumbling into his arms, unable to do anything else but embolden his entire body against Remus’s. Remus was too tall - Sirius’s face lay on his chest, but he clutched him, breathed him in, the cinnamon and cigarettes and seasalt, the smell of herbal tea and old books and Bowie records. Sirius wrapped his arms, tight, face mashed into Remus’s jumper - and Remus was hugging him back, his long, thin arms encircled round Sirius, bending down. Sirius buried his face into the crook of Remus’s neck, whispering his name, his entire body thrumming and alive because <em>yes</em>, God, yes, Remus was here, he was real. It wasn’t a dream - he wasn’t waking up, twitching and gasping and fucking <em>clawing</em> at the bed that lay empty beside him, looking for Remus, for his Moony. Remus was here, here, here. His hand was in Sirius’s hair, caressing it, tugging those slender fingers through the black strands, murmuring words Sirius could not hear.</p><p>
  <em>”Love you,son.”</em>
</p><p>Sirius pulled away with a gasp.</p><p>“Remus?”</p><p>“<em>Sirius?!</em> What-what are you doing here?”</p><p>“I wanted to see you.”</p><p>Remus blinked.</p><p>“I-” Anger overtook him. What the fuck did he <em>think</em> he was doing here? How dare he fucking disappear and <em>not</em> expect Sirius to come after him. “You <em>twat!</em>” He exclaimed, slamming the door behind him. Remus jumped, eyes wide. “Don’t you <em>ever</em> do something like that to me again!” His voice wavered.</p><p>“I- what?” Remus gaped.</p><p>“Just fucking- just- <em>disappear</em> like that, you scared the shit out of me-” Sirius babbled, shouldering through the hallway.</p><p>“You came to Wales?” Remus’s face went pink, and he gawked. “What the hell?”</p><p>“Of course I bloody came to Wales,” Sirius snapped, looking round.</p><p>So this was where Remus grew up. It was pretty- and very much him. Cosy, with hippie rugs and dusty floorboards, pictures on the walls, plants everywhere. Dead plants. And too much dust.</p><p>Sirius whirled. “What the fuck were you thinking?”</p><p>“I-” Remus blinked again, and then his face hardened. “It’s really not your business.”</p><p>He pushed past Sirius, down the hallway and into the kitchen, where he lit a cigarette. “I don’t think you should be here,” he waved at Sirius, who stood in the doorway, incredulous.</p><p>“What? You’re just going to kick me out-”</p><p>“Like you haven’t done that to me?” Remus hissed through the smoke. “What the fuck are you doing here?”</p><p>“I-I came to check on you-” Sirius started, but Remus just scoffed.</p><p>“Well, you’ve checked, and I’m fine.”</p><p>“You don’t look fine,” Sirius raised an eyebrow. And he was right - Remus’s face was pale, paler than usual, and his eyes looked tired, and sad, all of the liquid amber sapped away. They were red-rimmed and purple, and his lips were split. </p><p>
  <em>Maybe he’s sad about Benjy.</em>
</p><p>“Well I am,” Remus muttered, turning away. “So, so just go away. Okay?”</p><p>Sirius swallowed. “No.”</p><p>“No?” Remus turned, laughing in disbelief. “<em>Now</em> you want to be all caring? Wow, brilliant.”</p><p>“Tell me what’s wrong.”</p><p>“Nothing’s wrong,” Remus insisted, lighting another cigarette. “Except you won’t bloody piss off.”</p><p>“Something’s wrong,” Sirius stepped forward, his weary joints aching as his feet propelled themselves along the floorboards of Remus’s kitchen. “So tell me what it is.”</p><p>Remus was quiet for a moment. “You. I want you to just go away, Sirius.”</p><p>“I don’t want to,” Sirius crossed his arms over his chest like a child. “I want to stay.”</p><p>“Maybe it’s not about what you want, Sirius,” Remus snapped, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Maybe other people have things to do.”</p><p>“Like what?” Sirius pressed, and Remus’s face flashed.</p><p>“Like kicking you out,” he hissed, leaning on the counter. “Please just go.”</p><p>“No,” Sirius jutted his chin out, stepping forward, the small nature of the kitchen pushing the two of them closer together. “Just <em>speak</em> to me- why did you just disappear, and dump Benjy? Why does everyone in this fucking village turn to jelly when I mention your name? What the bloody fuck is <em>wrong</em>-”</p><p>Remus whirled on Sirius - he hadn’t realised how close they were until they were facing one another, Remus’s face like thunder, a tumbling countenance of frustration.</p><p>“Why do you even fucking <em>care</em>, Sirius. You don’t care about me, wy- why would you-”</p><p>“<em>Of course</em> I care about you,” Sirius gasped, hands instinctively reaching up to cup Remus’s face, the contact changing softening everything. Remus’s face instantly softened, the hard edges of hollow cheekbones and sharp jawlines turning tender as he closed his eyes, Sirius’s hands, decked in rings and stupid finger tattoos framing his cheeks. It was stupid, for both of them - that something so simple as a mundane touch to the cheek would liquify everything within them, melt away all the ice and fear and rolling thunderclouds, till only sweet summer remained.</p><p>“Please tell me what’s wrong,” Sirius said quietly, thumb subconsciously brushing Remus’s cheekbones. “And then I’ll go.”</p><p>Remus swallowed, eyes still shut, the shadows of his eyelashes tracking along his cheekbones, tender fingers of them resting on the high bone, fluttering in the lamp light as his eyes darted beneath closed lids.</p><p>“It’s the anniversary. Of my accident,” the words seemed small, jumbled, unsure.</p><p>Sirius breathed. Remus breathed. Then he opened his eyes, and looked down at Sirius.</p><p>“I was in a car accident. When I was 16. And-”</p><p>His voice scraped, and stopped, and a single tear slipped from his eye. Sirius pulled him into a breathless hug, unsure of what else to do, the only truth ringing in his mind that holding one another would cast out the world for one moment. And Remus let him, fisting one hand in the back of Sirius’s hoodie and the other in his hair, desperate, clutching. He trembled and Sirius trembled, the kitchen clock ticking and the only audible sound their shaky breaths. When they pulled apart, Remus blinked, and then gave in, tears streaming freely down his face, tracking rivulets across his pale features. Sirius brushed one away, waiting for him to talk, if he wanted to. He was content to stay there, though, wiping away his Moony’s tears and holding him through the tremors of the night.</p><p>“It was a hit and run.” Remus chewed on his lip. “I- I knew the person who-”</p><p>That was it - he sniffled, and then broke out into a sob, pulling out of Sirius’s arms, cigarette long forgotten, sinking to the floor, resting his curly head on the cabinet behind him. Sirius sat beside him, still silent.</p><p>“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” Remus laughed then, wetly, and scrubbed his eyes furiously. “I’m still so fucking angry at you.”</p><p>Sirius nodded, lips twisted.</p><p>“I- my mum was in the car,” Remus gestured to the kitchen. “She didn’t make it.”</p><p>Sirius felt it then, a little part of him break, if not at the fact Remus lost his mother then at the nonchalance with which he announced it.</p><p>“Christ, Remus-” he started, but Remus just shrugged.</p><p>“Yeah, she died pretty much instantly,” his eyes were glassy, now, no longer sheened with tears but with something else, with memory and pain and grief, of feelings too closely known, too skin tight and familiar. “The guy who hit us- Fen -  he was upset with me. ‘Cause we were moving away. And he said I was betraying him.” He shrugged. “Maybe I was, in a way. And that’s where <em>this</em>-” he gestured to himself, still looking ahead and not at Sirius, hands waving to the myriad of scars patterned across him, “-came from.”</p><p>“A-and the meds-” Sirius was prying, but the words were spilling out, and his chest hurt almost as if Remus’s story was his own. It was pain to see Remus in pain - Remus, who laughed with his whole body; Remus, who made Sirius coffee when he knew he hadn’t slept but didn’t want to push him; Remus who cried over Neil Perry <em>every single time;</em> Remus; Remus; Remus. Sat here, in the kitchen of his dead mother, a cigarette burning away in the ashtray on the countertop above, breaths coming out in ragged gasps, eyes no longer as feverishly bright as they always were.</p><p>“Christ, no,” Remus laughed then, a jarring sound, devoid of humour. “Nah, I’ve had that since birth. I’m just a fucking lucky one.” He lit another cigarette, wiping the last of his tears away. “So there you go, Sirius. Nice little charity case with a tragic past all laid out for you to fix.”</p><p>Sirius flinched. “You know that’s not-”</p><p>“Do I?” Remus turned, accusing. “I don’t think I fucking do.”</p><p>“Why would you think that?” Sirius barely whispered, his head still spinning, stomach reeling. Walburga still perched on his shoulder and his heart was still thumping dizzyingly, but he clawed out through the swathes of mist for Remus - to be here, to be present, if not for Remus then at least for himself, a tether to reality. A torment, in many ways.</p><p>Remus was crying again, his mouth firmly shut, almost as if the words were too painful to utter.</p><p>“Why would you-” </p><p>“Do you love me?”</p><p>The four words he’d hoped he would never have to hear rang through the kitchen, and Sirius’s heart thudded, blood roaring in his ears, for the truth was below and the above was controlled by a thin hand with painted red fingernails.</p><p>“Do you love me?” Remus repeated, brushing a hand over Sirius’s cheek, and that’s when he realised he was crying, too.</p><p>“I-” The words were stuck, and he tried to force them out. <em>I do, I love you, or at least I think I do, but Remus, god, I don’t even think I know what love is anymore. I don’t think I’ve ever been taught what it is. Maybe you showed me or maybe not, but I can’t tell you I love you because my love isn’t enough, it isn’t right, it’s broken-</em></p><p>“Sirius. Do you <em>love</em> me?”</p><p>Sirius said nothing, but continued to cry, and Remus’s face twisted, a sculpture, precarious, fragile, teetering on the edge of shattering. Sirius could pull it back, but he didn’t know how.</p><p>“I need time,” he whispered, voice coming out smaller than he’d ever heard it, and Remus closed his eyes, shaking his head.</p><p>“I haven’t got time, Sirius.”</p><p>“I need-”</p><p>“It’s not about what you need, Sirius. Don’t you understand? Don’t you understand how long I’ve loved you?”</p><p>Sirius said nothing, just continued to allow the stream of tears, unrelenting and hot, drip down his face as his subconscious cried and reached out for his Remus, for love and life and happiness, for amber-coloured eyes and tawny curls.</p><p>“I <em>waited</em> for you,” Remus’s voice cracked, lips wet with crying, and the sculpture shattered. “I’ve waited for you for two years, Sirius. I’ve been in love since I saw you, and I can’t wait any longer.”</p><p>“Remus-” Sirius dimly registered rolling onto his knees, his tears coming hotter and faster, sobs rumbling in his chest. He needed him, he was so close, <em>why couldn’t he say it, why couldn’t he love?</em></p><p>“Do you know how much it hurts?” Remus whispered, taking Sirius’s face in his hands, the whirlwind and torrent of feeling plucking them both from the ochre light of a Welsh village and thrusting them into the stratosphere. Everything was tumbling forth, and any ideas or notions of reticence and carefulness were whisked away. They had nothing but the truth, the raw, blistering truth and every single piece of agony it dredged from their souls. It was too fast, too much - but they had always been too much, always moving faster than life itself. For once, they fell behind, dragged by their heels. “It hurts so much because I fucking love you with everything in me and <em>you don’t love me back</em>.”</p><p>
  <em>I do Remus, I do, I do, I just don’t know how to say it, I’m scared it’s wrong, I’m scared I don’t know what the word is, I’m scared it’s not enough for you, I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared.</em>
</p><p>Sirius made a sound, a half cry of pain and a half whimper. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Remus choked through tears, and the whirlwind still dragged them both, windswept and breathless, skin stinging and lungs devoid of air. “You ripped my heart out of my <em>fucking chest</em> Sirius.”</p><p>He grabbed Sirius’s hand and held it to his breast, and Sirius could feel the dull thudding of his heart underneath the sweater. The drumbeat of Remus, his life force, the pounding rhythm that was whispered secrets and steaming tea, the ecstasy of Bowie songs and drunken dizzy kisses - it beat underneath Sirius’s hand, and he could feel it, every reverberation, every movement and moment ricocheting through his fingertips, electrifying every synapse, synchronising life forces till their hearts beat in rhythm.</p><p>“Do you feel that?” He whispered, and Sirius nodded, their tears mingling on his outstretched hand, palm splayed on the cotton of Remus’s sweater. “That’s my heart. And it fucking beats for you.”</p><p>A sob escaped Sirius’s mouth, and he closed his eyes, refusing to look, trying to wish away the pain he’d caused. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t see his hands that painted and sketched and poured coffee and ran through honey-coloured curls stretched over woven cotton above the beating of Remus’s heart. If he saw it for a moment longer everything would pool out of him, every semblance of control or sense or feeling, and he would be reduced to nothing. That was what Remus did to him. He undid everything in him, and Sirius hated himself for loving it, for wishing it would never stop. Sirius shook his head, eyes still tightly closed, tears still springing, and he didn't know whose tears were whos. They combined, a muddying pool, moonlight meeting stardust, their cries and pains and pasts swirling together, dripping onto the floor. Perhaps this was as close as they could ever get to true togetherness.</p><p>“Look at me, Sirius,” Remus’s voice was hoarse, and he tugged on the wrist he still had hold og. “<em>Look at me.</em>”</p><p>Sirius opened his eyes, blinking away the tears, and fastened his teeth to his lip. “Remus-”</p><p>“Do you see what you do to me? Do you see?”</p><p>Sirius just cried like a child, still gnawing on the soft pink skin of his mouth.</p><p>“Don’t you see why it’s so <em>hard</em> for me to exist right now, Sirius? You- you complete me, and I can’t have you.”</p><p>“You <em>can</em> have me, Remus, I just-”</p><p>“I don’t want half of you,” Remus pushed backwards, hand still around his wrist. “Don’t you get that? I don’t want a part of you, I want <em>you</em>. All of it.”</p><p>Sirius bit down on his lip, hard, and felt the skin split, felt blood spring forth. The silence stretched between them.</p><p>They had nothing but the truth, now.</p><p>“Tell me you love me, Sirius.”</p><p>“I- I can’t. I just - I can’t. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I suppose that’s it then.”</p><p>And as soon as it happened, Remus was gone, and Sirius was alone again, a crumpled heap on the floor, only the ghosts of his soulmate’s past to keep him company, the shape of Remus seared on his eyelids forever.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. The Simplicity Of It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>SAY THANK U KITCHEN ROLLLLLLLL<br/>CW car crash mentioned, abusive family mentioned<br/>song is love in the time of socialism by yellow house. PLEASE PLEASE listen while you read this chapter. it is the best song evevevvevever. i put the whole song bc yes. love u</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em><br/>Maybe I'd be better off in Berlin,<br/>Or as an artists muse in London,<br/>Drifting from hand to hand.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maybe I was born to be a sailor,<br/>Drop my anchors in Antigua,<br/>As a travelling fisherman.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But I am home wherever you are near.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There's no life in anything,<br/>When you're not here.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Who could take my love away?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maybe I was destined for philosophy,<br/>Leading leftist ideologies,<br/>At the Paris-Sorbonne.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dreaming up the splendid demise,<br/>Of the societies we despise,<br/>At Cafe de Flore.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But these things lose all their meaning,<br/>And allure,<br/>If you're not there to<br/>Witness the grandeur.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What could shake my love away?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maybe we'll be missionaries in the Congo,<br/>Revolutionaries in Cuba.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Perhaps we'll build a home,<br/>In the shadows of the forest,<br/>Along the east coast, or the west coast,<br/>I forget where we decided.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As long as I'm with you when we do it,<br/>I could trade the views in,<br/>For any pallet.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Nothing can take my love away.<br/>Nothing can take my love away.</em>
</p><p>---------------</p><p>
  <em>“Stars are not small or gentle.<br/>They are writhing and dying and burning.<br/>They are not here to be pretty.<br/>I am trying to learn from them.”<br/><strong>― Caitlyn Siehl</strong></em>
</p><p>---------------</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>REMUS</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Remus knew as soon as the door slammed on his childhood home, leaving Sirius a mess on the kitchen floor, that the damage was done. The dust stays the dust. The broken is irreparable.</p><p>He slid into his car, face still tight with tears, scrubbing furiously at the his eyes that stung and mouth that gaped. <em>You will not cry over this anymore</em> Remus lied to himself, thrumming the car forth. The vast expanse of stars glittered above, the moon nearing fullness, but the only star Remus wanted was gone, winked out, exploded. That was the life of a star, he supposed - burning fast and bright, dancing on the clouds, and then winking out, dead, dissolved. And the moon hung, perpetual and infinite, alone - tracking through the sky, watching the stars die and fade to nothingness, and so <em>desperately</em> craving release from eternity. That was the life of the moon - isolation, an aching loneliness that permeated and wove through every fibre, through every hard and jagged edge of pale stone, till it struck the core, till the truth, the ultimate truth of complete and utter removal from the world, the blinding stratosphere, sung. All of it, just out of reach.</p><p>The car moved along, and Remus directed it to some long-forgotten pin prick of a Welsh town, and there, apart from everyone and everything, he allowed himself to cry. It was slow, at first, but the imprint of Sirius, the feeling of his fingers on his, the memory of tears splashing together, it ignited something within him, and a torrent fell forth. He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, for himself, for the fact he was never enough, how he could never be enough for Sirius - and he sobbed for Sirius, still a boy, broken and wide eyed and lost, just fucking tumbling through the world like the celestial body he was. His hands moved from his hair to the steering wheel, which he slammed, fruitlessly, the last dwindling flames of temper spiralling out of him. Maybe the car horn honked - maybe Sirius would’ve found it funny, in a different life. And then he was tumbling out of the car, thin and frail body still racked with heaving sobs that ripped from his lungs like jagged knife edges, and he was screaming into the valley, the sound of his screams echoing across the hillside. He screamed for it all - for the unfairness of it, the damage done too well, the knives that cut to deep. </p><p><em>Sirius, Sirius, Sirius.</em> The only thing, the only inexorable truth he would orbit like the moon he was, a moon without its stars. </p><p>He wept and he cried and his hands tore at his body, and perhaps he finally knew how Achilles felt, as his hands spasmed in the compacted earth with the raw pain of it all - a car crash 8 years ago, a lifetime of pain, his lifeline severed. Sirius didn’t love him. And if Sirius didn’t, who would?</p><p>He was alone. Only the sound of his echoing cries met him.</p><p>-------------</p><p>
  <em>If the sun never comes up,<br/>you find a way to live<br/>without it.<br/>If they don’t come back,<br/>you sleep in the middle of the bed,<br/>learn how to make enough coffee<br/>for yourself alone.<br/><strong>-Caitlyn Siehl</strong></em>
</p><p>------------</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>SIRIUS</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>“Padfoot?” James and Lily stood at the door. Sirius was vaguely aware of his legs having carried him home, to the train - it must’ve been the middle of the night.</p><p>“Pads?” James repeated, eyebrows stitched in worry. Lily stood at his shoulder, halo of red hair glinting in the darkness.</p><p>“James,” Sirius croaked, and then, as if he were a child, he burst into tears.</p><p>“Oh, Pads,” Lily rushed forward and held him, and the two stumbled into the apartment, James lending a supporting arm, an anchor. Sirius cried and mumbled into Lily’s shoulder as his two best friends guided him towards his bedroom, carefully peeling his sweat-soaked clothes away and bundling him into bed.</p><p>“I messed it up James,” Sirius sobbed, voice still muffled. “I messed it up so bad.”</p><p>“Hey, hey,” James soothed, pushing Sirius’s tangled hair away from his face. “Sirius-”</p><p>“I love him so much, fuck, I’m so in love with him-”</p><p>“Padfoot, shh, it’s okay-”</p><p>“And I messed it up. I can’t tell him and I don’t know why and I fucked it up so bad and oh god I love him-”</p><p>“Hey, Sirius. Sleep, okay? Just sleep. And we’ll sort it out in the morning.”</p><p>“Sleep?” Sirius whimpered.</p><p>“Sleep, buddy. Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise.”</p><p>“You promise?” The pillow was wet with tears.</p><p>“I promise. Just sleep, okay?”</p><p>Sirius did not dream that night.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘Gone out. Back in a bit.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Talk to him.’</em>
</p><p>The note read. Sighing, Sirius thumbed ‘Prongs’ into the contacts app and hit call.</p><p>James picked up on the second ring.</p><p>“Padfoot! Morning!” </p><p>“You’re awful chipper,” Sirius sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “Where have you gone? Can you come back? I need to talk to you-”</p><p>“We’re in Liverpool,” James interrupted, and Sirius swore he could hear Lily in the background.</p><p>“<em>Liverpool?</em> What the bloody fuck are you doing in Liverpool?” Sirius choked down the line.</p><p>“Visiting baba and ma,” James hummed. “Shall I tell them you said hi?”</p><p>“You’re visiting them and not taking me? What the hell James?”</p><p>Sirius could practically hear the shrug through the phone. “You have shit to do in London, don’t you?”</p><p>Sirius swallowed and stayed silent.</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“You told me we’d make it better in the morning, James,” Sirius protested weakly. He knew he sounded like a child, but he didn’t care. James was supposed to help him.</p><p>“No. I said it would <em>be</em> better. This is something you have to do yourself.”</p><p>“I-” Sirius sighed, sitting down on the sofa. “I don’t know what to do, James,” he murmured smally. “It’s like - like every time I open my mouth to say it I just <em>can’t.</em>”</p><p>The line crackled, and then James spoke.</p><p>“Do you love him?”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” Sirius exhaled. “So much.”</p><p>“So just tell him.”</p><p>Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s not that simple, James,” he said through his teeth.</p><p>“Why not?” Sirius swore he could have thrown his phone across the room right then. It was so <em>complex</em> - he could feel all the tangled threads stoppering his veins and stuck around his organs, and here James was, making it seem simple. But that was James Potter - liver of easy life. Things <em>were</em> simple, in his books.</p><p>“Because- because I don’t-” Sirius struggled for words, and tears threatened again. “I don’t know. Okay? I- I don’t think I know what love is.”</p><p>He breathed out shakily, sniffing. He knew how pathetic it sounded out loud, but what could he do? It <em>was</em> pathetic.</p><p>“You’re not pathetic,” James replied, and Sirius realised he must’ve said that part out loud. His whole body ached almost as much as his chest did, his face still streaked from salty tears, dryness of them nestled in pulse points and lining his fibres. The magazine for the Kintsugi edition lay face up on the coffee table, and Sirius flipped it over.</p><p>“Look, Sirius,” James sighed, the phone turning the gentle puff of breath crackly. “It is simple. You love him.  I know you do, because I see it in your face. The way it lights up whenever someone speaks about him, or the way you used to look at him when he hung around. Like you wanted to devour him whole and keep him in your chest forever. I saw it in the way you learnt how to make each different type of tea perfectly, or when you read that ghastly Homer book because he loved it. Okay? You love him, and that's the simplicity of it. Just love, mate. Pure love. You owe him that.”</p><p>Sirius stayed silent, eyes fixed on the back of the magazine.</p><p>“He’s sat there, in that godawful shoebox apartment, and he’s spent the past two years thinking you never loved him back.”</p><p>“James-”</p><p>“And the annoying thing? You thought he didn’t love you back. So just go <em>tell him that.</em>”</p><p>A single tear dropped from Sirius’s eye, and he swiped it away furiously. <em>Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry-</em></p><p>“I know love hasn’t been the best word for you, Sirius,” James ploughed on. “I know. But-” James’s voice turned shaky. “But what your parents did to you- no matter how many times they told you it, that wasn’t love, Sirius.”</p><p>“How do you <em>know?</em>” Sirius pressed, his eyes dangerously close to spilling now.</p><p>“Because I love Lily, and I love you. I know what love is. That’s how I know you love Remus with the <em>right kind of love.</em> The kind of love that you deserve to have. Let yourself have it, Padfoot.”</p><p>Sirius stuffed a fist into his mouth, biting down on the tattooed skin, determined not to cry.</p><p>“Love is waking up every day and wishing they were in the bed next to you, and love is that fucking <em>incredible feeling</em> when you realise they are. Love is thinking every part of them is undeniably beautiful. Love is that shitty blanket on the fire escape routine that you two thought you hid so well.” James laughed wetly, and Sirius realised he must be crying. “You’re in love, Pads. So please, for once, just <em>let yourself have something good.</em>”</p><p>“But what if I break it?” Sirius whispered round his fist.</p><p>“Then you put it back together, like that Kintsugi stuff I showed you. Okay? You put it back together and you keep going. You keep loving.”</p><p>The line went dead, and James’s words rung in Sirius’s ear.</p><p>
  <em>Let yourself have it.</em>
</p><p>So Sirius allowed himself to cry.</p><p> </p><p>“Remus!” Sirius pounded on the door. He could still be in Wales, but he had to try his luck. “Remus!”</p><p>“Are you kidding me?” Mrs Figg poked her head round the door. “You? Again? Christ.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Mrs Figg, but I need to see Remus-”</p><p>“I don’t care. Just keep it down.” She slammed her door, and Sirius turned back to knock again. But the door was open, and Remus stood in the doorway. His eyes were tired, his hair a mess, his jumper holey. But he was still Remus. Still beautiful, otherworldly Remus. Still the moon to his stars.</p><p>“Remus-”</p><p>“What do you want, Sirius?” Remus sighed, defeated. His voice was barely a scrape.</p><p>“To talk.”</p><p>“Haven’t we done enough of that?” Remus smiled weakly, a smile without humor or warmth.</p><p>“No,” Sirius stepped into the apartment. “I-I.”</p><p>He breathed, long and slow, and tugged the air in, tugged Remus in, the smell of him, his feeling, his aura. His truth and his spirit, and how it stood before him. That was it.  Nothing more, nothing less. Just love. The simplicity of it all.</p><p>“I love you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Shut Up And -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>PLZ READ<br/>wow kitchen011 you are on a .... should we say it..... roll? nah i'm just on top of schoolwork so have all day free to write!!!!!! My muse is on fire right now and I am pretty much finishing up the whole fic. This scene has been in my head since I started so im ecstatic to bring it to life, finally. This chapter is SUPER short IM SORRYYYYYYYY but I wanted it on its own, i really did. next one will be the usual (looong) length. Check the notes at the bottom AFTER READING for the french translation.<br/>i promised u some good stuff, didn't i? i am a woman of my word ;)<br/>i found a reason - velvet underground</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em><br/>
I found a reason to keep living,<br/>
Oh, and the reason dear is you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I found a reason to keep singing,<br/>
Oh, and the reason dear is you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh, I do believe,<br/>
if you don't like things you leave<br/>
For someplace you've never<br/>
gone before.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Honey, I found a reason to keep living,<br/>
And you know the reason dear, it's you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And I've walked down life's lonely highways,<br/>
hand in hand with myself,<br/>
And I realize,<br/>
how many paths have crossed between us.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh, I do believe,<br/>
you are what you perceive.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What comes is better than what<br/>
came before.</em>
</p><p>-----------</p><p>“No, you don’t.”</p><p>“What?” Sirius breathed, elation of self expression and finally being <em>fucking truthful</em> spiralling away like frayed ribbons.</p><p>“No- no-” Remus’s eyes were glassy, and he stepped backwards. “No, you’re just saying that because I left- because- because you miss the companionship-”</p><p>“<em>No,</em>” Sirius reached forward to Remus, who bumped into his sofa, and then sunk into it. All the fight was gone from him: all his blistering strength and licking amber flames were vanquished, and only a man, a moon, remained, no sunlight reflecting off its surface.</p><p>Sirius breathed through his nose, conscious of how close he was to tears.</p><p>“You’re lying. You’re being cruel,” Remus looked away, and sniffed. His scarred hand fisted the cushion.</p><p>“No,” Sirius said firmly, although the waver in his voice did nothing to help. “I’ve never been more honest about anything in my whole life.”</p><p>Remus didn’t look back.</p><p>“Remus,” Sirius walked around the sofa, pushing himself forward. His body cried to hold back, there was time to backtrack - but it was no use. He was here, raw, vulnerable, chest cavity ripped open and ribs cracked in two. And there was his heart, beating. Beating for Remus. “Moony,” he said softly, kneeling in front of the other man, who still wouldn’t look at him. He dimly registered the prick of tears, and allowed them to fall. Today, he would allow it.</p><p>“Remus, I love you,” he whispered, and grabbed his hands, holding them steadfast, tight. And God, how he had missed his Moony’s hands - cold, and gentle, like the sprinkling of snow in late December, yet somehow warm and comforting, a blanket. Sirius thought it was almost as if his whole universe could be summed up in Remus’s hands - his palms were microcosmic of the entire atmosphere, every trailing blaze of starlight, every whirlwind, every patter of rain.</p><p>Remus turned back to look at him, amber eyes wide and wet.</p><p>“I love you. So much. Like, so fucking much. I’ve never been more sure  of anything in my whole life.”</p><p>Remus said nothing. God, Sirius really wanted him to say something.</p><p>“I love you. I loved you for as long as I’ve known you - Christ, I was a goner the minute I walked into the shop and saw you for the first time. I really was, and I tried to stay away from you but I couldn’t, because you’re fucking everything. You- you’re so perfect it hurts.”</p><p>“Sirius-” Remus started softly, shaking his head.</p><p>“No, no, just- just <em>listen</em>,” Sirius pleaded, grasping Remus’s hands, holding them to his mouth. Everything dissolved, and only the truth remained. Only the truth. </p><p>That was all they had left.</p><p>“I love everything about you, and everything you do. I love your stupid hair - especially when it’s all sticky-uppy in the morning and you’re trying to get your fingers through it and it won’t stay down-”</p><p>“Sirius-”</p><p>“And your eyes, god your eyes - they’re amazing. I could watch them for hours, I really, really could. And those jumpers - I know I rib on you for them but they’re so soft and I sort of stole one, that beige one, like way back last September, and I still wear it. I wear it all the time and I know that’s weird and creepy but I wear it because- because if I can’t have you, if you can’t be woven into me then I’ll have to take what’s woven with your essence. It smells like you, Moony. Like cinnamon and cigarettes. And I love you, I love the moon because of you. Every time I look up at my ceiling at those moons I painted - I, I think of you. And I love the way you talk, the way you speak Welsh, I love the way you sneeze-”</p><p>He laughed then, using their clasped hands to wipe away his tears.</p><p>“-it’s so funny, you get so caught off guard and your eyes go all wide. And- and when you wake up in a morning. When you open your eyes really quick and there’s a little puff of breath like you’re surprised to even be there. And the way you make coffee - <em>so</em> wrong, I honestly don’t know how you haven’t been fired - the way you play the guitar, and your curls get in your face and- and you blow upwards to get them out. I love it. I love the way you read, and cry over books, and how absorbed you are. I used to watch you read all the time. I love the way you sleep - I- I don’t sleep much, and when I watch you you’re sprawled out like a cat in the sun and you look so <em>peaceful</em>, just basking in it, and that’s how I feel when you hold me. That’s how I feel, like- like a hammock or a gentle stream or breeze in Regent’s Park. I love the way you dance, like you don’t know what your own limbs are, like you’re not sure how to use them. I love the way you do <em>everything</em>, the way you laugh, the way you tell jokes, the way you watch Dead Poets, the way you hug me and hold me and kiss me, the way you whisper Welsh into my hair. I love you. So fucking much- and- and you don’t have to say it back, because I know I’ve been cruel, and I know I’ve made you wait for too long. It’s not fair- <em>God</em>, it’s not fucking fair but I love you and I’m here now and that’s it, that’s my one truth. I’ll never believe anything as wholeheartedly as that, because it’s so true I feel it in my bones. I love you Remus. I love you so much.”</p><p>He slumped forward, still holding onto Remus’s hands. He didn’t even know he’d had that in him, but there it was. </p><p>“Je veux être avec toi, toujours, à chaque instant de réveil. Je t’aime plus que je n’ai jamais aimé personne.” He mumbled in French against the skin wet with tears, for only him to hear.</p><p>“J’ai trouvé que c’est cela l’amour, tout donner, tout sacrificer, sans espoir de retour, et donc je t’aimerai de manière désintéressé.” Remus replied softly, and Sirius looked up in surprise, vision swimming with tears.</p><p>“Since when do you speak fucking French?” He laughed wetly, and then they were kissing, and God, he thought he would never want to feel any sensation other than Remus’s lips on his. If this was love, then the world maybe wasn’t so fucked. Everything about Remus he loved, and now finally his mouth on his mouth, the accepting, the understanding, the truth, it poured forth, and Sirius loved him. God, he loved him.</p><p>They broke away, and Sirius cupped Remus’s face. They were both crying, but he didn’t care. He loved him.</p><p>“I- I know this doesn’t solve everything. I know there’s still things to explain, but I- I love you. I really love you,” he whispered through tears, and pressed their foreheads together. “And I’m sorry, I’ll try harder-”</p><p>“Sirius,” Remus’s tone was abrupt. “Shut up and fucking kiss me.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sirius says “Je veux être avec toi, toujours, à chaque instant de réveil. Je t’aime plus que je n’ai jamais aimé personne.” which means "“I want to be with you, always, every waking moment. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. "</p><p>Remus replied with "J’ai trouvé que c’est cela l’amour, tout donner, tout sacrificer, sans espoir de retour, et donc je t’aimerai de manière désintéressé." which means "I have found that this is love, giving everything, sacrificing everything, with no hope of return, and so I will love you selflessly."</p><p>it's prettier in french x</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Fy Nghariad-Mon Veritable Amour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>HEY I LOVE LOVE LOVE UR COMMENTS I JUST CANT REPLY TO THEM ALL BUT I SEE THEM ALL AND I SCREENSHOT THEM AND SAVE THEM AND READ THEM WHEN I FEEL SAD SO THANK U ILYSM ILYSM je t'aime je t'aime!!!</p><p>wowowowo kitchenr011 u r amazing (yes, but it's actually that i felt so fcking bad for what i put yall thru i was like. THESE BITCHES NEED SOME GOOD STUFF. college is about to get me in a chokehold so i'm sprinting to finish the fic.<br/>One more chapter after this. One more. (it's LOOOOOONG) and then... shit. we're done. not gonna get sappy. i'll save that for the final chapter. deal?<br/>okay let me post this b4 i start crying cos. wah wah.<br/>CW: therapy , recovering from alcoholism and bereavement<br/>check notes AFTER reading for welsh/french translations :') ur gonna like em &lt;3 google will tell u fy nghariad is boyfriend IT IS NOT IT MEANS ONE LOVE OK<br/>song is dedicated to the one i love by the mamas and papas &lt;3</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>While I'm far away from you my baby,<br/>
I know it's hard for you my baby,<br/>
Because it's hard for me my baby,<br/>
And the darkest hour is just before dawn.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Each night before you go to bed my baby,<br/>
Whisper a little prayer for me my baby.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And tell all the stars above:</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This is dedicated to the one I love.</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em><strong>TWO YEARS LATER </strong></em>	</p><p>“Morning,” Remus called, that lovely Welsh voice ringing through the shop. Sirius looked up from the counter he was stationed at - the coffee counter, of course. He wasn’t going to let Remus suffer anymore than he had to - he could man the book and art half for now, and Sirius would deal with the grinds and lattes. He regretted giving Dorcas the day off.</p><p>“Bore da,” Sirius smiled at his boyfriend, accepting the pastries Remus had. It was a bit stupid, buying out, when they had the whole cafe’s stock to eat if they wanted, but they loved the little bakery round the corner. “You slept in, lazy git.”</p><p>“Hey!” Remus swatted the apple pastry out of Sirius’s hand in retaliation, leaning over the counter to press a kiss to his forehead. Sirius flipped him the V and picked his pastry up off the floor, dusting it off and carrying on as he was, leaving the taller man to weave through the shoppers and shimmy into the till across the way. The bell tinkled and James and Lily bundled in, noses pink from the weather outside.</p><p>“P-p-padfoot!” James boomed, startling shoppers, and Sirius cordially flipped up yet another V for the day, already preparing James’s regular order.</p><p>“How’s business at the IE treating you, Pads?” James leaned on the counter, Lily ruffling his hair.</p><p>“You know ie just means yes in Welsh, right?” Sirius quipped back, frothing milk. “What’s wrong with the name we chose for it?”</p><p>“Ileuad et Étoiles?” James parroted in butchered Welsh and French, and Sirius tossed a packet of Sweet’N’Low at him. “It’s just a mouthful.”</p><p>“It’s not a mouthful,” Sirius chastised, starting on James’s drink after having finished Lily’s very sensible soya latte. “I like it.”</p><p>“What does it even mean again?” James whined, twirling his glasses, which Sirius snatched with his free hand, placing them atop his head and winking at James.</p><p>“It means ‘Moon And Stars’ in Welsh and French, James,” Sirius called over his shoulder. “You know this.”</p><p>“He’s winding you up, Pads,” Lily chuckled, leaning over the counter and pinching the glasses back, returning them to the safehold of James’s face. “We’re very proud of you.”</p><p>“Well thank you, Lily, at least <em>someone</em> is,” Sirius nodded, adding the fourth caramel shot to James’s ridiculous drink, slamming the frappucino down on the bamboo counter. “Pay up.”</p><p>“<em>What?</em>” James gawked, looking shocked. “We- we’re your best friends!” He sputtered, and Sirius shrugged, opening his mouth. Remus got there first, leaning in between the two of them.</p><p>“We’re running a business here, you two,” he chided, then turned to Sirius. “There’s someone here enquiring about art classes.”</p><p>“We’re booked up for a while,” Sirius shrugged round a mouthful of scone, but Remus just sighed.</p><p>“I know, but he was really insistent on speaking to you. Side fling?”</p><p>Sirius made a face. “You’re my only plaything, Moonshine,” he said, polishing off the scone. “Let me go speak to them.”</p><p>Remus slid - no, <em>vaulted</em> over the top of the counter to man the fort - a practice Sirius frequently chided him for but never had the energy to enforce a rule about - and Sirius ducked out, heading over to the till where a man stood, drumming his fingers on the countertop.</p><p>Sirius slid into the seat, not looking up, and brushed a hand through his hair. Insistent customers were really fucking annoying.</p><p>“Look, sir,” Sirius started, and then he looked up, his face cracking into a grin. “Frank!”</p><p>Frank Longbottom, a chubby man with a big heart and an even bigger crop of sandy blonde hair, beamed back at Sirius. “Ayup, Padfoot! S’been a while, hasn’t it?”</p><p>“Say that again!” Sirius exclaimed, jumping up to hug him. “Oi, Prongs!” He yelled across the shop. “Come and look what the cat dragged in!”</p><p>James turned, bewildered, and then his face shone as he bounded over, frappuccino forgotten and leaving an exasperated Lily to pay Remus.</p><p>“Franky!” He bundled the other man into a hug, trapping him in a headlock. Shoppers looked on. “Where’ve you <em>been</em> you big tosser?”</p><p>“Here and there,” Frank grinned from underneath James’s huge bicep. “Here and there.”</p><p>James released him and pulled him into a hug, and Sirius punched him on the arm. “You haven’t called in fucking ages!”</p><p>“I know, I know,” Frank held out his huge hands in apology. “But we’re in London for a couple days and I thought I’d come see the new Sirius Black haunt!”</p><p>“Cheeky bastard,” Sirius cuffed Frank round the head, still grinning ear to ear. “I <em>own</em> this place, thank you very much, Longarse.”</p><p>Frank’s eyes widened. “Well congratulations Pads!” He winked. “Listen, we’ve all got to catch up properly-”</p><p>“Broomsticks tonight,” James called, relieving Lily of her conversation with Remus, Frank and Sirius in tow - not that he would need to, the two were so conjoined at the hip.<br/>
They could, and did, talk for hours.“8ish!”</p><p>Frank nodded dutifully. “Alright, alright. Sorry,” he smiled apologetically at Remus. “You must be er-”</p><p>“This is Remus,” Sirius sidled up to the counter and shimmined behind, flicking the coffee grinder on, “my boyfriend.” </p><p>Remus smiled round a mouthful of pastry. “Hiya,” he said, muffled, extending a hand, which Frank took heartily.</p><p>“Christ, you’re all put together now Black!” Frank chuckled. “How long’s this been going on?”</p><p>“4 years-” Sirius started.</p><p>“2 years-” They both spoke at the same time. Frank looked puzzled.</p><p>“42 years?” he snorted, and Sirius ducked his head bashfully.</p><p>“Certainly feels like it,” Remus nodded in mock sincerity, so Sirius squished a pastry on his face. “You bastard.” Remus giggled, punching him in the arm, and Sirius yelped, grinning back. The two became locked in combat, hands on one another’s shoulders, desperately trying to smush pastry in the other’s mouth, and both too stealthy to be caught by the other.</p><p>“They’re so fucking childish,” Sirius heard James sigh. “They’re meant to be 26.”</p><p>Sirius pushed himself up, body half over the counter, and snatched the frappuccino out of James’s hand, taking a long sip and offering some to Remus, who accepted it graciously.</p><p>“Give that back!” James scrunched his face up, scrambling for his drink, Scouse accent only rendering it all the more funnier to his friends around him.</p><p>This was life, and life was good.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius unlocked the door to his apartment above Ileuad et Étoiles, swinging the door open and rubbing his eyes as he dumped the keys to the shop in the key dish. Remus had gone back to his, but most of his stuff was here anyways, so Sirius toyed with the idea of offering him to stay the night.</p><p>It was dysfunctional, he knew that - they owned the shop together, did <em>everything</em> together, but Sirius still felt nervous sleeping in the same bed as he did. Remus was clearly a heavier sleeper now, though, because Sirius never woke him up - or if he did, Remus stayed completely still, eyes closed, pretending. It wasn’t the best, but it would do.</p><p>His temple winced and he rubbed it, tracking through to the apartment’s shower and turning it on, hoping the steam would clear his head. The apartment was nice - decorated just the way he wanted it (as in, the way James and LIly would only ever let him do his room as). He’d moved out a year after he and Remus got back together (or started? He wasn’t really sure) but Remus stayed in that little shoebox further up London. Said it was something to do with a down payment or loan or something that Sirius was too middle-class to understand (he’d just bought this building outright) - but Sirius wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to live here. Christ, he was a nightmare to live with, he could accept that.</p><p><em>Pub. Tonight.</em> He massaged his eyelids too hard, scrubbing his face under the hot steam. He was doing better, with the booze, but he wasn’t there yet. He would have one drink tonight, or two. Or he’d get carried away and embarrass himself.</p><p><em>When was his next therapy appointment?</em> He should check the calendar. He didn’t really like it much - they wanted to talk, all the time, about his childhood and his relationships and his nightmares. But he’d gone for Remus. Remus was worth it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>”Sirius, please,” Remus pleaded, kneeling in front of him. Sirius’s face felt itchy with dried tears and the bottle he knew that was in the cabinet was calling his name. She’d been back, her and her fingernails that ripped him open. He saw her in his dreams, and when he closed his eyes - if he could just <strong>get</strong> to the bottle then he could make her vanish for a bit, for a moment. Only a moment. That was all he needed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sirius,” Remus pushed, and Sirius looked up at him through heavy eyelids. “Talk to me. I can <strong>help</strong>.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Maybe I don’t want help,” Sirius mumbled, letting his head drop again, but Remus caught it, holding it up to his.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I know you don’t. But you need it. Wanting and needing are not the same,” he’d whispered, pressing a kiss to Sirius’s forehead. “S’il vous plaît? For me?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>So he’d done it. For Remus. Therapy, and rehab, and Alcoholics Anonymous. He wasn’t sober yet, but he would be. Maybe. He’d try, alright.</p><p>He pulled his clothes on, tugging rings over his fingers and kohl round his eyes, and then went to get the door that had started shaking with knocks.</p><p>Remus sidled into the apartment, pressing a scruffy kiss to the top of Sirius’s head, who smiled, chasing his silly thoughts away and kicking Remus on the behind.</p><p>“Tea?” he asked and Remus nodded eagerly, already spread-eagled on the sofa. The kitchen in this apartment was completely open, with no walls or doorways separating it from the main room of the flat, and Sirius watched Remus scroll, bored, on his phone while the kettle whistled. English tea before the pub, with one sugar and oat milk, just how Remus liked it. He passed a steaming mug - the one with wildflowers, he’d kept it - to Remus and settled beside him, putting his already brewed coffee onto the table.</p><p>Remus stretched, placing his down, and then grabbed Sirius by the hips, letting the smaller man straddle him and play with his hair. This was what he loved about finally being able to love Remus openly - the little moments, even the private ones, like Remus braiding his hair or Sirius painting Remus’s nails. Just the little things, the simple parts of life, that seemed so unequivocally and undeniably <em>better</em> when he could do them with Remus. It hadn’t been this way, at the start. Teething problems, Sirius had joked, but it was deeper than either of them cared to admit. There’d been hesitation, arguments, tears and days without speaking. Sirius didn’t want to talk about his nightmares; Remus didn’t want to talk about his dead mother, or his lousy walk-out dad; Sirius wouldn’t let Remus near him after a dream, would scream and shout and tell him to leave, to dump him, that he wasn’t worth it; Remus would cower back in on himself when he got ill, when the pain got too much, when he wouldn’t let Sirius look after him.</p><p>Time. She healed all, and she helped the two of them. It wasn’t perfect - it was rough around the edges, a little clunky, dysfunctional at times, messy at best. But they made it work. Love was enough to keep trying.</p><p>
  <em><br/>
“Then you put it back together, like that Kintsugi stuff I showed you. Okay? You put it back together and you keep going. You keep loving.”<br/>
</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The pub was as busy as it always was, and the four of them nestled themselves in a corner, where Frank and Alice joined them. The first round of drinks were on James, the second on James, and the third on… James. Sirius opted for a diet coke after three drinks, and he felt Remus squeeze his knee under the table. A part of him twinged, felt annoyed - he wasn’t a child who needed a cookie. But the other part felt good, felt okay. This was what had to be done.</p><p>“So, Remus,” Frank leaned forward, an arm still around Alice. “How did you and Sirius meet?”</p><p>“Illegal boxing match,” Remus nodded dutifully, grinning only slightly at the laughs around the table. “Uh, I worked across the street and he came in for coffee a lot. Sort of went from there.”</p><p>Frank raised his eyebrows. “So- do you live above the shop? There’s a flat up there, right?”</p><p>“Uh, no, I don’t,” Remus shook his head, shifting. “Just Sirius. I uh- I live in Charing Cross, by Chinatown.”</p><p>“It’s where he keeps his mistresses,” Sirius commented dryly, draining the last of his coke, feeling uneasy. <em>Why? It’s not your fault Remus doesn’t want to live with you.</em><br/>
“Who wants another?” He stood up a little too quickly, chair groaning. Frank blinked, and James tilted his head towards Lily, a knowing look in his eye. Frank shifted uncomfortably, seemingly realising he’d brought up a tricky topic. <em>But it wasn’t tricky until a moment ago, so why are you being such a tosspot, Sirius?</em> He scolded himself and ran an impatient hand through his hair.</p><p>People mumbled their orders and Sirius departed towards the bar, grateful to have a release. The pretty barmaid leaned over the wood, batting her eyelashes at Sirius, who rattled off the drinks, disinterested, twirling James’s debit card that he’d finessed from his best friend’s pocket in his hand. The barmaid looked a little miffed, but at least it meant she’d leave Sirius alone. Besides, he didn’t do that anymore.</p><p>“Hey,” Remus came up to stand beside him, scratching the back of his neck like he always did when he didn’t know what to say. The crescent moon tattoo flashed.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>”What really <strong>is</strong> the meaning behind the tattoo?” Sirius reached out, tracing it with his finger, head on Remus’s chest, nestled in the sweater, room swirling with smoke.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He felt Remus tense under him, so he propped his head up, looking into his boyfriend’s eyes. God, that felt weird to say - Sirius Black, boyfriend? He would never tire of seeing the amber in them, though, and the utter warmth that spread through his chest when they made contact with his midnight blues. He pressed a sleepy kiss to Remus’s chest. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You okay?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Remus’s lips twisted, and then he sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them, they looked as though they were wet - but the room was too dark for Sirius to tell, so he just continued to trace the little crescent shape nestled at the pulsepoint of Remus’s slender wrist.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My mum - obaith, I called her - always liked the moon,” he started, moving his eyes to stare at the ceiling. “She said when I turned 18 we could get matching moon tattoos on our wrists.” He looked back down at Sirius, who lay, gazing at him, letting him speak. Something about Moony’s voice was so fucking sacred to him, and he’d learnt over time to understand every nuance and lilt hidden in the Gaelic charm. And he knew when to shut the fuck up. Remus brushed some hair out of Sirius’s face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You know she died when I was 16,” he swallowed, still playing with Sirius’s bangs. “So we never got to get them together. But I did. You know, for her.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sirius nodded. “Tell me about her.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And Remus did.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Sirius smiled tightly, drumming his finger’s on the bar. “Alright?”</p><p>Remus snorted. “I s’pose.” He nodded a smile at the barmaid who placed the drinks down, and she blushed, hurrying away to get more. Sirius smiled secretively to himself. That was his Moony.</p><p><em>His</em> Moony. </p><p><em>Do something about it, Sirius,</em> his therapist always said. <em>Talk. Tell people what you want. Tell people the truth.</em></p><p>“Why don’t you want to live with me?” He blurted out, regretting it almost instantly as Remus’s face turned blank with shock.</p><p>“I-I-” he stammered, eyes darting between Sirius and his hands. “I-”</p><p>“Right,” Sirius rolled his eyes, taking the drinks from the barmaid and stalking back over to the table, ignoring the slop of beer onto his hand. His therapist would scold him, if she were here, but oh well. He wasn’t bloody perfect.</p><p>He set the drinks down a little too hard, crashing into his seat with a sour expression - which his friends did not miss, at all.</p><p>“Alright, Pads?” James prodded gently, and Sirius nodded curtly, taking a gulp of his diet coke.</p><p>“Fine,” he said gruffly, not looking up as Remus returned with the rest of the drinks, setting them down considerably more gently than his significant other had only moments before. Remus stayed standing though, fumbling in his jacket pocket. Sirius turned, eyebrows raised, daring him to have a go.</p><p>But why would he have a go? He was Moony, and he was bloody perfect, and that was that. He stood, with a crooked smile, tobacco pouch in his hand, holding it up in offering. </p><p>“Smoke, Sirius?” It was their way of saying <em>Can we talk?</em> It would kill their lungs, but at least it didn’t kill their relationship.</p><p>Sirius swallowed, tempted to say no, but that <em>stupid fucking beautiful face</em> stared back at him, and, rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh, he dragged himself up and swiped the tobacco pouch without a word. He smoked hand-rolls now - he and Moony made a game of it, seeing who could roll up one quicker. Remus always won. </p><p>They walked in silence to the smoking area, but Sirius was aware of Remus’s hand splayed on the small of his back, guiding him through the crowds. And as much as he hated to admit it, because it didn’t make his argument very well-equipped, but he loved it. He wished he could get Remus’s hand tattooed on him, the feel of the tender, scarred fingers supporting around his hip, anchoring him, tethering him to reality - it was blissful.</p><p>The pair stepped out into the cold night air, rolling cigarettes, still in silence. Remus won, as usual. It was only after a few drags that one of them spoke.</p><p>“I do want to live with you,” Remus said, voice muffled with tobacco smoke. “I just needed a few minutes to figure out how to say it.”</p><p>“And ‘I do want to live with you,’ was the best you could come up with?” Sirius sarked, flicking his ash impatiently.</p><p>“Well, yeah,” Remus shrugged, and then tumbled on, breathless. “I thought you didn’t want me to live with you and that’s fine but I want to and I didn’t know how to tell you and-”</p><p>Sirius couldn’t help himself - a laugh bubbled from his lips, and then another, and soon they were both laughing, smoke escaping from their mouths in puffs like baby dragons.</p><p>“I- why would I not want you to live with me?” Sirius lit another cigarette, just to give them more time, the two of them. He’d have forever, alone with Remus, if he could.</p><p>Remus looked at the concrete, studying a spot on the floor, which he scuffed with the toe of his green Chuck Taylor. “I know you’re nervy about sleeping in the same bed, and - well, it would be permanent. If I lived there.”</p><p>Sirius sighed, blowing his smoke to the side neatly. He hadn’t really thought about that, but now was the time to be brave. He’d spent too many years trying to desperately keep Remus at arms length, and he finally had him, tangible, close, within the grasps of his fingers, and he wouldn’t fucking let go.</p><p>Sirius swallowed, and shook his hair out. “Yeah, well. I love you. So as long as you’re okay with me crying like a baby in the night - every night - then I want you to live with me. I really do.”</p><p>Remus was silent for a moment, and then he looked up, his face breaking into a tentative smile. “You really do?”</p><p>Sirius flicked his cigarette away into the darkness. He smiled, feeling his chest grow warm and swell with love. He’d never get used to the feeling - he’d thought he was dying, the first time it had happened, when Remus had brought him breakfast when he felt too sad to get out of bed. His chest had felt like it was going to break, his heart expanding and growing and lodging in his throat with such a wave of fucking love. Sometimes he still thought he was dying, when it happened.</p><p>
  <em>Not a bad way to go.</em>
</p><p>“Really, really,” he confirmed, standing up on his tiptoes, and Remus met him halfway in a kiss, a deep and long kiss. Remus’s arms snaked around Sirius’s belt-buckled hips, and he smiled against his mouth, so Sirius smiled back, and they were swaying, and Sirius was still talking, still murmuring “Really,really,” against Remus’s soft lips.</p><p>“Christ, get a bloody room, you two,” Frank shouted, the rest of the troupe in tow, all bundled up in their coats, Sirius’s leather jacket and Remus’s denim one hanging from his hands. The pair broke apart, but not before Sirius pressed a kiss to Remus’s cheek, who had gone slightly - endearingly - pink.</p><p>“I didn’t get to finish my beer,” Remus frowned, accepting his jacket, and James nudged him with his elbow.</p><p>“I took care of it lad,” he nodded dutifully, and Remus shook his head in disdain. “Listen, Frank, Alice, why don’t you all come to Sirius’s apartment tomorrow night for pizza and a movie, alright?”</p><p>The couple nodded eagerly and then ducked into conversation with James and Lily, stood in a huddle, and so Sirius and Remus took their opportunity to escape into the night, hand in hand, heads bent together and shoulders shaking with laughter.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>”I think you should see someone too, Remus,” Sirius commented one evening, two mugs of tea precariously balanced on a tray.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Huh?” Remus had frowned, his face dark. They’d been having an argument - Remus had gotten into a fight at the pub again, all because someone had made a stupid comment about Sirius.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Look,” Sirius sighed, passing a mug to Remus, who accepted it cautiously, as though it might be poisoned. “I’m seeing someone for my shit, and I want you to see someone for yours.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Remus sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve not got ‘shit’, Pads,” his voice was tight, so Sirius nudged him with a toe.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Everyone’s got shit, Remus,” he smiled sadly as Remus turned back to him, face stony. “S’il vous plaît? For me?” He echoed Remus’s words from last year.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Remus closed his eyes, sighing, and then opened them again, the tension in his face cracking only slightly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Okay.” He nodded, and Sirius cocked his head, smiling.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Great. You know I love you, right, Moons?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Remus set the mug down, grabbing Sirius by the ankle, tugging him towards him, laughing at the yelp. “I love you too.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The pair stumbled into the bedroom, an identical visage of Sirius’s 23rd birthday, lips locked and hands fumbling. They collapsed onto the bed, the edges of the mattress buckling their knees, sending them crashing down. There was no other word to describe it, really, other than crashing. That was what the two of them did - they crashed through life, tumbling and falling, blinding, like the celestial bodies they truly were. They were hurtling through the atmosphere, but at least they did it together, limbs entangled. Remus looked down at Sirius softly, and he brushed the black hair away from his face, pressing a kiss to his eyelids, his forehead, his nose.</p><p>“Ti yw fy nghariad,” he whispered, capturing Sirius’s lips in a loving kiss. Sirius closed his eyes, falling back into the cloud of Remus, all honey trails and moonlight and midsummer’s flowers. God, it hurt sometimes, just how much he loved Remus, and the liberation of saying it almost hurt more. <em>I love you, I love you.</em> He wasn’t sure whether he was saying it out loud or in his head, but did it matter? It was true, and it was real, and that was what mattered. The stars spun and the winds rolled, the late November sky enshrouding them and their love, everything slowing as the universe pinpointed them and their embrace.</p><p>“Je t’aime, je t'aime, je t'aime,” Sirius murmured against Remus’s mouth, cupping his face, tracing the scars with his thumb. “Je veux t’embrasser pour le reste de ma vie.”</p><p>“Ti yw fy mhopeth,” Remus whispered, his voice dancing along Sirius’s kiss bitten lips, Welsh meeting French in a crushing blend of gasps and words of love. Words couldn’t really express it, though. This was it, this was them. This was home. It could be any apartment, any flat - but Remus was his home. He was everything, the entire world, all of it. He was dancing moonshadows and blinking starlight; he was soft summer rain and the dampness of wild grass; he was a cold winter’s night that stung and swept and burned you with the sweetness of icy frost permeating your cheeks, dancing scarlet upon all your high points; he was tireless fingers, writing and reading and drawing; he was the pulsing beat of Sirius’s heart, like the gentle tug of the moon on the rolling tides, the rhythmic hush of sea-salt water lapping against the trodden sand of the shore, the swirling indigo of the ocean. He was love.</p><p><em>Je veux passer le reste de ma vie avec toi. Je t’adore, mon seul véritable amour,</em> he thought to himself as sleep claimed him, and for once, he was not afraid of what waited on the other side.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sirius says bore da - this is good morning in welsh.<br/>sil v'ous plait is please.<br/>“Ti yw fy nghariad i,” he whispered, capturing Sirius's lips /// "You are my love," he whispered, capturing Sirius's lips..<br/>“Je t’aime, je t'aime, je t'aime,” Sirius murmured /// "I love you, I love you, I love you," Sirius murmured.<br/>“Je veux t’embrasser pour le reste de ma vie.” /// "I want to kiss you for the rest of my life."<br/>“Ti yw fy mhopeth,” Remus whispered, /// "You are my everything," Remus whispered.<br/>Je veux passer le reste de ma vie avec toi. Je t’adore, mon seul véritable amour, he thought to himself as sleep claimed him /// I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I adore you, my one true love, he thought to himself as sleep claimed him</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Fall Back Into Place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>THANK U FOR EVERYTHING&gt; UR COMMENTS, THE KUDOS, THE KIND WORDS&gt; I LOVE YALL. also yes i will let yall know when i write my first book. :) u all have been so kind BUT THERES A FCKIN CHARACTER LIMIT ON SUMMARIES HGSYFH see u in the comments!<br/>https://www.nhs.uk/mental-health/nhs-voluntary-charity-services/charity-and-voluntary-services/get-help-from-mental-health-helplines/<br/>A-Z of hotlines for mental health.<br/>https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/guides-to-support-and-services/crisis-services/helplines-listening-services/</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A buzzing phone roused Sirius from his sleep, and he groaned, slamming his hand aimlessly around the bedside table, shaking the rickety thing. The phone kept buzzing and he launched it across the room, where it hit the door with a thud and clattered to the floor. It kept buzzing.</p>
<p>“Christ,” Remus yawned, face buried in the pillow next to him and - <em>shit</em>, Remus was in his bed, and had he dreamed? Had he seen him? Had he-</p>
<p>“Pick up the phone or I’ll shoot you in the balls, Sirius,” Remus flung a hand out, still blind with the pillow, and Sirius dodged. Yes, he remembered now. He <em>had</em> dreamed - and he’d woken, lurched awake, sweating and crying and there Remus had been, quiet and still as a mouse so not to spook him. And he’d waited, just waited, laid there quietly, breathing gently, not touching Sirius, until he could bear to be touched. And when he had, it had been slow, and gentle, a hand rubbing his back, soothing words, until the tremors of his heart and stopped and he buried his face back in Remus’s collarbone, and sniffled like a child till sleep had claimed them both.</p>
<p>“<em>Sirius Black,</em>” Remus growled and Sirius let out an inhuman groan, swinging his legs out of bed and hobbling towards his phone now lay on the floor, surrounded by plaster dust. <em>PRONGS&lt; INCOMING CALL</em> the screen read, and Sirius picked it up, clicking the phone.</p>
<p>“This had better be good, James,” Sirius huffed, ambling back towards bed, where Remus now lay on his back, propped up on a pillow and rubbing his eyes.</p>
<p>James was quiet, and then he spoke. “I- Pads,” he trailed off. “Shit. Where are you?”</p>
<p>“My flat?” Sirius snorted, ignoring the uneasy feeling creeping in. He lay back down next to Remus, who pressed a sleepy kiss to his temple.</p>
<p>“Okay, just- just stay there. I’m coming, okay?”</p>
<p>“What’s going on?” Sirius rubbed his eyes, still half asleep. “James? What’s wrong-”</p>
<p>The line went dead, and Sirius pulled the phone away from his ear, puzzled.</p>
<p>“What was that?” Remus peered at the black screen. “Is Prongs coming over?”</p>
<p>“Uh, yes,” Sirius scratched his head. “Yeah. He is.”</p>
<p>He met Remus’s eyes, and the amber pools went wide, concerned, brows knitting together. He brushed away a tendril of black hair from Sirius’s face - it was their routine, and it said what needed to be said.</p>
<p>“I’ll go put the kettle on,” he nodded, kissing Sirius on the nose, and padded out of the room, moving creakily. He’d been getting worse lately, and he needed to sit down, but Sirius would deal with that later. One thing at a time.</p>
<p>It was a Sunday, and he wasn’t about to get dressed for James, so he just pulled on one of Remus’s huge sweaters over his bare chest and pyjama bottoms, and trudged through to the rest of the flat after Remus, making a mental note to remind him to take his medicine. Remus didn’t like him telling it to him, but he forgot sometimes, and Sirius wanted him to be okay. Remus was embarrassed, and it was stupid. His illness didn’t make him weak, and Sirius loved him so much he’d do <em>anything</em> for him - Remus was just too used to dealing with it on his own.</p>
<p>Remus passed him coffee, which he accepted with a gratuitous smile, sipping it and hopping up onto one of the island stools, swinging his legs and doodling absentmindedly on a receipt with an old biro.</p>
<p>“Your herbal tea collection is shit,” Remus commented, sliding into the seat next to him with a mug of green tea.</p>
<p>Sirius turned his head coyly. “<em>Our</em> herbal tea collection,” he corrected, pushing Remus’s nose. He hopped over the sofa and turned the CD player on - ACDC blared out, and he grinned, reinstating his post at the island and kicking Remus under the table.</p>
<p>“Listen, Pads-”</p>
<p>Remus was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and the unmistakable crash of James and Lily Potter entering his flat - <em>his and Remus’s flat</em>.</p>
<p>James smiled weakly, his hair a mess and still in his pyjamas, and Lily looked just as, if not more, frayed. Sirius sighed, taking a gulp of coffee.</p>
<p>“What’s all this then?” He leaned forward on the counter, stretching. James blinked at Remus, slightly surprised, and then back at Sirius.</p>
<p>“I- um-” he fumbled over his words. “Sirius, your-”</p>
<p>“It’s Walburga,” Lily interrupted, stepping forward and pulling her gloves off, tossing them onto the table in the entryway. “She’s dead.”</p>
<p>Remus sucked in a breath, and James seemed to go quite grey. Sirius took another  sip of coffee.</p>
<p>“Right,” was all he said, tapping the mug thoughtfully. “Well. Does anyone want eggs?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sirius, we should talk about this,” James said as Sirius wielded a spatula, scrambling himself a plate of eggs.</p>
<p>“This- you’re still allowed to grieve,” Lily said as Sirius washed his dishes and poured a third cup of coffee.</p>
<p>“Do you want to talk about it?” Remus said as Sirius pulled some socks on and finished his eyeliner.</p>
<p>He turned to Remus, and blinked. “No,” he said, and Remus nodded.</p>
<p>“Alright then.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t cancel on them, James,” Sirius rolled his eyes, passing a mocha to the blonde woman over the counter, smiling and saying <em>’Thank you, have a nice day!!’</em>.</p>
<p>“I think I do,” James said over his phone. “Look, Frank said they’re here until Friday, so we can just reschedule. In fact, why are you even at work? Go upstairs, go rest or something, just-”</p>
<p>“James,” Sirius sighed, cutting him off with a wave. “I’m <em>fine</em>.”</p>
<p>He moved down the counter to take another order, then slid back up to where James was, frothing milk and rolling his eyes at James’s insistence over the whirring sound of the machine.</p>
<p>“Sirius, your mother <em>died</em> yesterday night,” James pleaded, and the funny looking hipster waiting for his chai latte looked startled. Sirius passed it to him with a wink.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, she went peacefully!” he smiled at the now retreating customer.</p>
<p>James shook his head, exasperated. “Look, Sirius, you’re going through grief it’s-”</p>
<p>Something snapped in him then, and he hadn’t really seen it coming. Perhaps he should’ve, but that was the funny thing about temper. Like death, and bad news, it had a way of creeping up on you when you least expected it to.</p>
<p>“Except I’m <em>not</em>, James,” his voice was sharp, abrupt. “She’s not my mother. Okay? She stopped being my mother a decade ago, when I ran away to yours. Effie’s my mum, okay? Walburga’s just the old bat who raised me and hit me, a lot. So no, I’m not grieving. In fact,” he undid his apron, deciding he needed a smoke, “I’m glad she’s dead.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How’re you doing?” Remus sat down next to him, offering an arm, which Sirius leaned in to.</p>
<p>“Fine,” he mumbled against the soft weave of Remus’s jumper. “I wish everyone would stop asking me that.”</p>
<p>“Walburga did die yesterday, Sirius,” Remus commented airily, running a hand through Sirius’s hair. <em>Walburga.</em> Not <em>your mother.</em> He was glad for Remus. He seemed to get it. In the same way Lyall wasn’t his dad, Walburga wasn’t Sirius’s mother. They were just the people who let them down.</p>
<p>
  <em>”Sirius, I really don’t want to do this right now,” Remus sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“When, then?” Sirius folded his arms. “When? You- you need to <strong>talk</strong> to me, Remus. Your dad called yesterd-”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Not my dad,” Remus snapped, face like thunder, He turned his back and busied himself with making tea - whenever things got too much, or one of them shut down, the kettle was the answer. Something to occupy the hands.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Remus,” Sirius softened his tone, moving forward, but Remus spun. His was contorted, lips curled in frustration</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Don’t ‘Remus’ me, don’t take that tone Sirius, I- I don’t need pity-”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m not giving you pity, Remus,” Sirius felt his own temper flare and his voice hardened, growing louder, and he tried desperately to push it down. For Remus, for Remus. “I’m giving you love. That’s what we do, okay? That-that’s how this works. You lean on me-”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I don’t need to bloody lean on anyone!” Remus shouted, slamming down the teaspoon. “Okay? I’m fucking <strong>fine!</strong>”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He threw his hands up in exasperation, and Sirius flinched at the movement, reflexively flinging his hands up to protect himself, because oh, he’d done it now, he’d pushed too far, he’d opened his big mouth. This was always what did it back at Grimmauld Place - he got too mouthy, shoved too hard with his words, and his mother, his father, they’d punished him for it. He supposed it was only a matter of time before he tipped Remus over the edge.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>But the blow he’d been expecting never came, and when he lowered his arms, all that stood in front of him was his boyfriend with a stricken look on his face.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I-I-” Sirius fumbled, and then Remus pulled him into a crushing hug, tugging his hand through Sirius’s black hair. Sirius blinked, unsure, surprised. A year ago he’d have shoved Remus off, have stalked away and got pissed and pretended it had never happened. But things were different, with Remus. He carefully reached his arms around him and hugged him back. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against Remus’s neck. “I’m sorry, I-” <em>I pushed you too far and I’m so scared of pushing people in relationships too far because what if they remember the version of my mother’s love-</em></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Please don’t be sorry,” Remus pulled away, cupping Sirius’s face. “Christ, I’m sorry. I-I’m cagey and tight and I’m sorry.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m sorry too,” Sirius mumbled, suddenly feeling tears prick the back of his eyes at the pure unfamiliarity of the situation.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Stop. Stop apologising for things that aren’t your fault, Padfoot,” Remus caught his eyes, seeking them out. “I’m sorry. And God, I-I’d never hit you. You know that right? I’d never lay a hand on you like that,” he pressed their foreheads together and Sirius blinked back tears, still lost, dragged in the current of feeling and forgiveness and acceptance.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Promise?” Sirius murmured, aware he sounded small.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Remus pressed a kiss to his forehead. “God, fuck promise. I swear.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Are you sure you’re fine?” Sirius looked up through his eyelashes.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“No,” Remus spoke, mouth still against Sirius’s forehead. “I’m not fine. But I will be. ‘Cause I’ve got you. And I’ve got time.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you sure you’re okay?” Remus rested his head on the sofa next to Sirius. He held out his pinky. It was something they had started to do, over time, and it became their communication. Just touch, a slight of the smallest finger, and it was enough. “Pinky swear you’re okay?”</p>
<p>Sirius reached to lock his finger with Remus’s. And then he stopped. Why was he lying? This was Remus. This was his home.</p>
<p>“No. I’m not fine. But I will be.”</p>
<p>Remus nodded knowingly, using his unlinked hand to brush through Sirius’s hair. “You’ll talk to me if you’re ready, right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Sirius swallowed. “Yeah. I will.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>ONE WEEK LATER</em>
</p>
<p>“Mum, honestly, you’re going to make him keel over,” Sirius laughed as Effie shovelled another shortcake into a startled Remus’s mouth, who just blinked and kept munching the mounding pile of cake in his jaw.</p>
<p>“At least he’ll be well fed when he does,” she commented with a flutter of her hand, pushing her bags towards the door. </p>
<p>Sirius leaned back, taking a sip of tea - he drunk tea, too, now - and tossed a shortcake biscuit at Fleamont on the sofa, who caught it in his mouth, earning a ‘nice one Dad!’ from both James and Sirius.</p>
<p>“What time does your train leave?” Sirius asked, popping a couple of grapes in Remus’s jaw, taking advantage of the fact that the sheer amount of shortbread in it meant it sort of hung open. Remus glared at him.</p>
<p>“3, but we can stay another day,” Effie started, but Sirius held out his hands.</p>
<p>“Honestly, it’s <em>fine.</em> Frank and Alice are coming over tonight, so it’s really all set,” he smiled at her, and she nodded, pleased.</p>
<p>“I always did like Longarse,” she mused over her tea, sending Sirius and James into fits of snorting giggles over her using the nickname they’d given him.</p>
<p>“Longarse is very kind,” Lily nodded emphatically.</p>
<p>Effie bundled around, packing away the very last of her things, and finally stopped in front of Sirius and Remus on the island, whose heads were bent low while deep in conversation.</p>
<p>“Right, loves, it’s our time to scramble,” she spread her arms wide, pulling the two men into a hug, which they reciprocated. Effie pulled away, and took Remus’s face in her hands, tilting his jaw and inspecting him.</p>
<p>“You’re very good for him, Remus,” she mused, and both Sirius and Remus flushed red. “Thank you for looking after my boy.”</p>
<p>Remus looked down, bashful. “I- of course - though I don’t really have as much sway over him as you think I do.”</p>
<p>“Mm,” Effie shook her head, pressing a kiss to Sirius’s, James’s and Lily’s heads. “No one does, really.”</p>
<p>“See you later, bacchas,” Fleamont grinned, ruffling everyone’s hair and ducking out of the door. Effie blew a kiss to her sons and their soulmates, and disappeared through the entryway, clattering down the steps with Fleamont in tow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>”Regulus called.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Oh.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“He said he hasn’t heard from you since…” Remus trailed off.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Since Wally kicked the bucket?” Sirius offered, still painting.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Uh, yeah,” Remus scratched the back of his neck. “You should probably text him.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Well, thanks for giving me orders, Remus,” Sirius scoffed. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d done it, but everyone wanted to <strong>talk</strong> about his mother, check he was okay. He was fucking fine, thank you very much.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Remus’s tone was defensive. “I’m not. I’m advising you.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sirius turned his head sharply, eyebrows quirked. “Thank you. I will take it under posthumous consideration.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You didn’t use that word right,” Remus pointed out, folding his arms. He wasn’t exactly intimidating or convincing in an argument - scruffy hair that stuck up everywhere, a blue and green sweater that looked like a scalped bus seat, and big doe eyes. Sirius sighed. God, he loved him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I haven’t called Reg because he’ll want to talk about <strong>her</strong> and I don’t want to.” Sirius felt frustration and unease bubble up in his core, but he brushed it away, focusing on the pigment on canvas. It was bad enough Walburga haunted his dreams. Now she haunted the day.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Remus was quiet for a moment, only the sound of gentle breathing and the scratch-scratch of a paintbrush on canvas audible. Then he spoke.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Why don’t you want to speak about her?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sirius groaned. He should’ve seen this coming.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Why do you think?” He snapped. “Because everybody thinks I should be in tatters, or grieving, and I’m not. In fact, the only thing I can bloody think of right now is ‘good fucking riddance.’ And everyone’s just going to think I’m evil for it, but there it is. Good riddance. She was an evil cunt, and I’m glad she’s dead.” His voice trembled, and he set the paintbrush down. Remus let out a puff of breath, and went to sit down on the edge of the bed. He smiled, sadly.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You’re not evil for thinking that,” he said, pressing a cold finger to Sirius’s cheekbone. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I can’t talk about her, because I never really knew her,” Sirius sighed into the touch. “I-” He struggled for words, stomach swirling. What could he say? What <strong>was</strong> there to say? Tears threatened again, and he hated himself for it, but they did. They prickled and danced at the back of his eyes like little bursts of starlight. <strong>Starlight.</strong></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He couldn’t grieve someone he hated, could he? She took so much from him. She took the stars, and he wanted them back so much it hurt.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“She was supposed to be my mum,” was all he said, and the way Remus stroked his cheek sent him over the edge, and the tears came. They fell slowly, at first, then faster, and harder, hot streaks of salt pouring down his face, muddying the fabric of Remus’s jumper as he encircled Sirius with his arms, swaying gently on the floor, the only semblance of peace in a writhing mass of grief and regret and anger.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “She was meant to be my mum, and she wasn’t. I- I think I’m grieving the person she should’ve been.” His hand fisted the white fabric he’d laid out to catch paint, but all it caught now was tears. Everything collapsed inside him, swirling masses of clenched fists and smarting cheeks, of cold rooms and even colder nights, of fingernails drawing blood and shattered glass, a scar outside and too many to count inside. “I’m so <strong>angry</strong> it hurts.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Oh, Sirius,” Remus said softly, and that only undid him more. “Sshh. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I always loved that movie,” Frank commented, arm slung around Alice. The credits for Dead Poets Society played on the TV. Five glasses of wine, two untouched, and a glass of coke sat on the coffee table, surrounded by half eaten pizza in greasy boxes and napkins. Sirius nuzzled his head into Remus’s chest, who laughed and stroked his hair. Frank tutted.</p>
<p>“Remus, you’ve done incredibly, making Sirius like this movie,” he reasoned, and Remus chuckled. Sirius could feel it, with his head over his ribcage, and it felt warm, and beautiful. Like Remus. <em>I love you, I’ve got you.</em></p>
<p>“Hey!” Sirius tossed popcorn at him. “I’ve always had a taste for the finer things in life.”</p>
<p>“Does that explain the flooding prank?” Lily piped up from her blanket cocoon with James. Sirius flipped her the bird.</p>
<p>“Flooding prank?” Remus tilted his head, eyes bemused.</p>
<p>Frank giggled like an excited child. “We flooded the Slytherin dorms at boarding school,” he supplied, the three boys sniggering at the memory. “They had it coming.”</p>
<p>“Too right they did, cheeky bastards,” James nodded furiously. </p>
<p>It went on like that for a while, trading stories, and then Sirius and James made a blanket fort. He sat back, admiring his handiwork, and then he frowned.</p>
<p>“Lils,” he cocked his head. “You’ve barely touched your wine.”</p>
<p>Lily blinked, then smiled faintly. “Too busy engrossed in the movie!”</p>
<p>Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Alice. You haven’t drunk any of yours, either,” he scrunched his lips together.</p>
<p>“I don’t like red,” she shrugged, as Sirius clambered back into the blanket fort with James, dragging Remus by the ankle.</p>
<p>“Weird,” he muttered to himself, turning himself into a sausage roll by cocooning his body in a blanket. He stood up, toppling onto the sofa and laying there, unable to move. From where he lay, he could see that Frank and Alice were deep in conversation, and Lily looked queasy.</p>
<p>“Oh my god.” Sirius breathed. “Alice!”</p>
<p>Alice looked up, blinking.</p>
<p>“You’re pregnant!”	</p>
<p>Alice smiled sheepishly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He really should’ve connected the dots, but maybe he was tired earlier. Or too busy watching Remus. Or too busy rolling himself in blankets.</p>
<p>“What’s the big news?” he asked, swinging his legs and sipping the coffee Remus had made for him. It was late, probably at least 2am, and Frank and Alice had left, leaving the four of them sat around the coffee table in Sirius and Remus’s apartment.</p>
<p>Lily shifted, running a hand through her hair. James looked nervous, chewing on a fingernail. Remus blinked, impassive.</p>
<p>Sirius grinned dopily. “Spit it out, woman!”</p>
<p>“Lily’spregnanttoo,” James blurted out, and Sirius dropped his mug - empty, luckily.</p>
<p>“<em>What?</em>” He breathed, looking between his best friend and his wife. “Lily- you- you’re <em>pregnant?</em>”</p>
<p>Lily swallowed, and straightened her back, jutting her chin out, halo of red hair blazing. “Yes. And if you’re not happy about-”</p>
<p>She never got to finish her sentence, for Sirius tackled James to the floor and grasped him in a huge hug, kissing his forehead and then kissing Lily’s. “Oh my god!” He looked over wildly at Remus, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Oh my <em>god!</em> Oh my god! Oh my god-”</p>
<p>He tackled James again, crowing “Baby Prongs! Baby Prongs!”</p>
<p>It was the third best day of his life - second being the day Harry (nicknamed faon by Sirius) was born.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can’t believe they’re having a kid,” Sirius lay on Remus’s chest later that night, lamp light in their bedroom low, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The two men made shadow shapes, smiling softly at the others.</p>
<p>“It’s insane, isn’t it,” Remus murmured against his hair, and Sirius thought that he would never tire of the feeling of Remus’s mouth against his head. Everything seemed to be spinning, peacefully and potent, and it clicked into place. A kid, family, happiness, love, love, love. A word that had been so unbelievably foreign for Sirius until Remus, a word he still struggled to grasp. This was home. </p>
<p>“I love you,” he whispered, tilting his face up to meet Remus’s. He was so <em>beautiful</em> it hurt: those amber eyes and that straight nose, the pepperings of freckles and the translucence of scars - everything about him was dizzyingly otherworldly, and Sirius had the notion he was looking at a spinning celestial body, at divinity, at love in the form of a human. </p>
<p>“I love you too,” Remus smiled, and Sirius felt heavenly weak, as if everything in him was unravelling, and melting, and he loved it. “But I need some tea before bed, you <em>know this</em>-”</p>
<p>Sirius snorted, squeezing his eyes shut and laughing against Remus’s chest. He pressed a kiss to Remus’s lips, and left to turn the kettle on, still drunk on the feeling, and the fact he <em>could hold him and touch him</em> still running through his veins.</p>
<p>Remus was asleep when he got back - <em>stupid prick</em> - but Sirius just stood in the doorway, leaning his head against the wood, watching the vision of Remus, the picture he painted. Curled softly on his side, the ochre lamp light flickering on his face, casting warm shadows along the twisted sheets. </p>
<p><em>It’s always going to be you,</em> Sirius thought softly as he watched the steady rise and fall of Remus’s chest. <em>Everything I do, till the end of the fucking world. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do - I’d change the face of the earth for you, Remus, I’d swim blind, I’d do it all. Just you, always you. </em></p>
<p>“Je t’aime. Je suis fou de toi. Je donnerais tout pour être avec toi, je ne peux pas vivre sans toi. Remus, pour toujours je suis amoureux de toi.” Sirius whispered softly to the slumbering bedroom, watching Remus sleep, and thanking heaven that now he could do the same.</p>
<p><em>I love you. I’m so mad about you. I’d give anything to be with you, I can’t <strong>live</strong> without you. Remus, I’ll be in love with you forever.</em> </p>
<p>Unbeknownst to Sirius, a very much awake Remus Lupin smiled softly beneath his hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you ready?” Remus called into the bedroom.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Sirius huffed, tugging one of Remus’s jumpers on. It was huge, and hung off him, but he liked it. “Where are we even going?”</p>
<p>“Stargazing!” Remus smiled, turning towards the door, and Sirius stopped cold, feet rooted to the spot, heart plummeting. Remus turned, the grin fading from his face. </p>
<p>“Sirius?” </p>
<p>Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but only a puff of air escaped. He could feel the colour draining from his skin.</p>
<p>“Sirius.” Remus repeated, stepping forward. “Are you alright?”</p>
<p>Siris blinked, and forced the words out. “I’m fine.”</p>
<p>“Oookay,” Remus said slowly. “So let’s go.”</p>
<p>He reached for Sirius’s arm, but he jerked back. <em>No, shit, no.</em></p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“I- no?” Remus stood awkwardly, hand still outstretched, suspended in midair.</p>
<p>
  <em>Sirius, get out, before you say something stupid, just-</em>
</p>
<p>Sirius turned on his heel and stalked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sirius?” A knock came softly at the door, and he busied himself with art supplies as Remus stepped in. “Sirius? Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Fine.” He smiled tightly. “But I remembered I have things to do, so. Rain check on star gazing.”</p>
<p>Remus frowned. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”</p>
<p>Sirius swallowed dryly, rubbing his eyes. “Nope.” He lied.</p>
<p>Remus shut the door behind him, and it closed with a click. He leaned backwards on it, and just stood there like that while Sirius messed with his art drawer. Sirius tutted, impatient.</p>
<p>“Remus-” </p>
<p>“What’s going on?” Remus cocked his head to one side - not pitying, not derisive. Just curious. Caring.</p>
<p>“Honestly, nothing,” Sirius offered weakly, feeling the thread fraying thin. Something about Remus, the warm, pliable honey of him, just coaxed everything else out of Sirius, drew out his fears and his secrets and all the hidden parts of him, bathing them in light.</p>
<p>“Talk to me,” Remus prodded gently, and Sirius winced, as if he could <em>see</em> the string spiralling, thinning, splintering and then, snapping.</p>
<p>“Sirius-”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid of the stars,” he blurted, avoiding Remus’s gaze. The words tumbled out. “I’m afraid of the stars because that was my family’s thing. And every time I look up I think of them and it’s fucking terrifying.”</p>
<p>Remus was quiet for a moment.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Sirius waved a hand. “I don’t want apologies, I-”</p>
<p>“Come with me anyway,” Remus stepped forward. “Okay? Come with me. I- I want to spend tonight with you, and - just don’t look up, okay? But come with me. If you want to.”</p>
<p>Sirius tilted his head up to look at Remus.</p>
<p>“Only if you want to,” he said, slowly, and Sirius nodded, and then despite himself, despite his thrumming heart and the wince in his temple, smiled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Remus, it’s fucking freezing out,” Sirius laughed, breath clouding up in front of him, and he could see the shape of Remus in the dark of the path laugh back. </p>
<p>The two laid out their blankets - they took the bike up, with blankets and coffee in backpacks, the same backpack that had been full of soup so many years ago - and slumped onto the floor, laughing at the crackle of twigs beneath their shuffling bodies. They put the walkman in between them, one earphone each. It <em>was</em> freezing, but with a blanket underneath them and a blanket on top, and Remus next to him, Sirius felt undeniably warm. He nestled closer to Remus, wrapping his body around him like ivy, coiling and entangling, firmly planting the two of them in the soil beneath. The sky was a deep and midnight blue, all navy and indigo, but every time he raised his eyes to look, the thought of his mother - his very dead mother - came back, and he settled instead for watching Remus, whose eyes were flickering and scanning the night sky above. It was easy to push away thoughts of his family during the day, or when he had Remus and James and Lily, with all their laughing and consistent affection. But when he looked up, and saw <em>just how many stars there were,</em> and how they all looked down on him - it made his hairs stand on end.</p>
<p>“Rigel. Betelgeuse. Canopus. Altair,” Remus hummed, and Sirius looked at him, curiously. “Antaras. Deneb. Capella. Alnilam. Alnitak.”</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” Sirius murmured, and Remus tilted his head to the side, soft honey meeting electric gasp. </p>
<p>“I’m naming stars that aren’t in your family,” he said simply, with a small smile, and turned his head back. “Albireo. Alcor. Regulus.”</p>
<p>He looked at Sirius again. “Sirius.”</p>
<p>Sirius felt his breath hitch, as an all consuming wave of love careened through his body, breathless, merciless. He watched in disbelief at the man in front of him, the man he would do anything for, and thought he had never felt a feeling so pure and true and raw and honest.</p>
<p>“God, I love you,” Sirius breathed, kissing Remus, wishing he could devour him whole and never let him go, carry him with him, in his heart, always. “Did you- did you fucking learn those stars for me?”</p>
<p>Remus grinned sheepishly, bringing a hand up to cup Sirius’s face. He idly traced his cheekbones with a calloused thumb.</p>
<p>“Of course I did. I didn’t know when I’d need them, but- I guess know I do.”</p>
<p>Sirius dimly registered a tear slipping from his eye. This was love - this was what he had been looking for his whole life, clawing in the darkness, trying to make sense of the smoke. The walkman switched over. Space Song began to play.</p>
<p> “Je t’aime de toute mon âme.” <em>I love you with my whole soul.</em></p>
<p>No. He hadn’t been looking for it - he’d already had it. Remus was a part of him, and always had been. He was the thread that bound him, and the scissors that unravelled; he was his skin and lips, every fibre and cell and nerve ending, the lattice of sensations, all of it, weaving and living so blisteringly powerful; he was the candlelight Sirius read by; he was the rain on his face; he was the wind; he was his beating heart, his nestled pulse points, the blood in his veins. He was his consciousness, his voice, his mind. “Vous êtes tout dans ma vie...”<em>You are everything in my life.</em> He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Remus’s forehead.</p>
<p>“T’es,” he kissed his eyelids that fluttered in sleep and blinked in daylight.</p>
<p>“Tout,” he kissed his nose, that Remus rubbed subconsciously when he was confused, or working on a problem, and scrunched it when he was mad.</p>
<p>“Pour,” he kissed his cheeks, the pale surface of moonlight threaded with scars that shimmered and twisted like roughspun gold wire.</p>
<p>“Moi,” he kissed his lips, the entire world, where Remus whispered Welsh and words of love, where Remus healed him and stitched him back together.</p>
<p>
  <em>You are everything to me.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>It was late at night,<br/>You held on tight.</em>”</p>
<p>“Sirius,” Remus whispered, eyes wide, mouths brushing. “Nid wyf erioed wedi caru unrhyw un fel hyn.”</p>
<p>
  <em>I have never loved anyone this way.</em>
</p>
<p>“ <em>From an empty seat,<br/>A flash of light.</em>”</p>
<p>They lay there, faces close, touching, immovable, eyes closed and hands resting on opposite cheekbones, the insignificant world hopelessly shut out, simply the two of them, central, present, in love. </p>
<p>“<em>It will take a while,<br/>To make you smile.</em></p>
<p><em>Somewhere in these eyes,<br/>I'm on your side.</em>”</p>
<p>Remus pointed at something in the sky. “Do you think you can look?”</p>
<p>Sirius closed his eyes, gently. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.</p>
<p> “<em>You wide-eyed girls,<br/>You get it right.</em>”</p>
<p>“How about just this bit, for now?” Remus murmured. “Forget the rest. See that?”</p>
<p>Sirius followed his finger, where a bright light sat.</p>
<p>“<em>Fall back into place,</em></p>
<p><em>Fall back into place.</em>”</p>
<p>“That’s Venus.”</p>
<p>“Woah,” Sirius breathed.</p>
<p>“And this?” He moved his hand a little further - they could truly see the world from this hilltop, so high and suspended above London, far out from the city.</p>
<p>“I feel like I could move the world with a single finger,” Sirius grinned, still following Remus’s moving hand, until it rested on one star, a bright star. The autumn star, the brightest in the sky.</p>
<p>“That’s Sirius,” Sirius smiled, feeling Remus clasp his hand under the covers.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Remus murmured. “The most beautiful one in the entire night sky. Dw’in dy garu di yn fwy na bywyd ei hun, Sirius.” <em>I love you more than life itself, Sirius.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Tender is the night,<br/>For a broken heart.</em></p>
<p>Sirius hummed, nestling his face in the crook of Remus’s collarbone, inhaling the scent of him, the utter, resolute <em>Remus-ness</em> of him, the cinnamon. And cigarettes.</p>
<p>“<em>Who will dry your eyes,<br/>When it falls apart?<br/>What makes this fragile world go round?<br/>Were you ever lost?<br/>Was she ever found?</em>”</p>
<p>“Rwy'n credu mai chi yw'r peth harddaf yn y byd a byddaf yn rhoi popeth i chi, fy nghariad.” <em>I think you are the most beautiful thing in the world and I will give everything to you, my love. </em></p>
<p>“<em>Somewhere in these eyes.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Fall back into place.</em>
</p>
<p>“Je t’aime, je t’aime, je t’aime,” Sirius mumbled. Nothing more, nothing less. The universe stretched above, and yet here everything lay, all of truth and life and love and death, of spinning breathlessness and the endless trajectory of a star, of the blazing trail of light wrapped around their forms. <em>Fall back into place.</em> Sirius reached through the ocean, and there Remus was, clasping hands inexplicably steady, turning and caressing and endlessly gentle. One single scratch to the surface, and there the other lay within each of them. Every part met every part, two bodies tumbling, together, reaching through divides, perpetually meeting in the middle.  <em>Fall back into place.</em>In every lifetime, every universe, they found one another, souls finally at rest, moonlight and starlight pouring from their outstretched hands, the meeting of two tectonic plates, of two electrified life sources. Never one without the other. Togetherness, atonement, love. Just love, pure and hard and true, nestled in their bones and tendons and sunsick temples, healing every wound and shimmering every scar. Never one without the other. <em>Fall back into place.</em></p>
<p>“Marry me,” Remus whispered into the dark.</p>
<p>Sirius felt his mouth part. “W-what?”</p>
<p>“You heard me,” Remus turned his head. “Marry me.”</p>
<p>
  <em>It is you. Always you. I could not tell you how much I love you, for the words have not been invented yet. You are living in my bones, Remus Lupin. T’es tout pour moi.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Fall back into place.</em>
</p>
<p>“Christ, Sirius, answer me,” Remus gasped, laughter tumbling forth.</p>
<p>Yes seemed too simple a word - but words were not really needed, were they? Not when two souls were so inexplicably intertwined. </p>
<p>“Of course I’ll fucking marry you.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Fall back into place.</em>
</p>
<p>-----------</p>
<p>Through the large windows, a universe of dust particles float gently in the section of sunlight slanting through the apartment above Ileaud et Etoiles. On the mantelpiece, a photo stands tall, of two men at a June wedding, both laughing too hard to pose even once. They had not hired a photographer, no - the photos were on a film camera, taken by a boy with a shock of black hair and coke bottle glasses, and a girl with eyes greener than grass and a halo of red hair, like their best friend had been doing for the past two decades. The man with the myriad of scars smiles down, adoring, at the giggling man below him, whose curly black hair sweeps away from his face by a calloused hand. The Ziggy stardust album lays propped next to it, and as the sound of a squealing child, his parents and his godfathers gently drifts from the shop below, a pale green Kintsugi vase watches the still apartment, on this sunsick day.</p>
<p>The End.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <em>After the blast levels our town<br/>We can relax and watch it come down<br/>Maybe we'll find somewhere to stay<br/>Some little cave where we can make it.<br/>We'll finally find what we need<br/>After the ships leave us behind<br/>We can forget the lives they assigned<br/>Maybe we'll have more time to play<br/>Running around totally naked<br/>We'll finally find what we need<br/>After we start over again<br/>We'll start to feel safe in our skin<br/>Maybe we'll be wrinkled and grey<br/>Or maybe we'll get new plastic faces<br/>We'll finally find what we need<br/>Some sunsick day, sunsick day...</em>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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